


Christmas Fan Fiction Advent Calendar 2017 (Batman Universe)

by TheJokersEnigma



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:09:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 65,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJokersEnigma/pseuds/TheJokersEnigma
Summary: Ok, basically I have come up with a little challenge for me to celebrate Christmas this year where I will produce one piece of fan fiction for every day of December based around the DC Batman Universe. This will be made up of one-shots, mini series' and continuations of my current series.I really hope you enjoy - though based on time restraint I can't guarantee the best quality writing! HahaI've placed them all in this 'new story' to keep the collection together i.e. each new chapter will be a new day!Hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas!





	1. Day 1 - Joker x Reader - A Christmas Carol - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry guys that I haven't written in so long, but I've been really busy (and behind) on my uni work, but I think it's vaguely under control, so I wanted to kick myself back into gear with writing with this little challenge!  
> I will endevour to keep up with each day!  
> PLS PLS PLS Let me know what you think of it all! I miss talking to you guys, I feel like I haven't heard from anyone in a while! :(

The heat from the building’s entrance way engulfed J as he stepped back into his building. The air was almost suffocating, but he barely noticed as he pushed on through the lobby and into his private elevator that stood out of way through a private staff corridor. He elbowed past anyone who dared to get in his way, snarling at anyone who then turned to reprimand him before they realised who it was and quickly backed away. People knew he owned the building, but the chances of ever actually seeing him were so slim, most were still brave enough to use it.  
J threw the door to the private corridor open with one hand, the other holding a piece of card, now crumpled in his fist. He stormed into the elevator, ramming the up button. He needn’t be more specific than that, the elevator only went to one floor. His floor.  
J’s jaw was clenched so tight his teeth ached, though he didn’t feel that either, his eyes bore holes into the doors in front of him as he listened to the sound of air rushing past either side of him. He didn’t look at the card again, just kept his eyes straight ahead.  
The building wasn’t the tallest in Gotham – that award would always go to the Wayne Enterprises building that sat smugly in the middle of the grimy city – but it was definitely a strong competitor for second place, most office blocks falling away beneath the penthouse windows. J couldn’t enjoy the view now; didn’t get the powerful feeling he often did staring out at the sprawling landscape before him through the floor to ceiling windows that lined the north facing wall. Instead, his mind was seeing the words that were scrawled neat on the card which was now a creased mess in his palm.  
He wished she didn’t this every year. He hoped that this would be the year she forgot. That she gave up. Who was she to continue to contact him? Anyone else wouldn’t dare to be this annoying to the ‘Clown Prince of Crime’ as they nicknamed him. But she could. She always had. Yet the rest of the year he heard no word from her.   
But this?! His grip tightened even more, compressing the screwed-up paper even smaller.   
He never had mail delivered to his penthouse. Ever.  
Few knew his address and he never had any deliveries made to the building, J ensured that any packages were sent to a secret off grid location, and never the same place twice. There could be no way to track anything to one location. No way to find him.  
So, when Frost had informed him of mail waiting for him down at the front desk, J was ready to shoot whoever messed up.   
Then he’d seen the handwritten address.  
He had stepped outside at that point – after retrieving the envelope from the front desk – he hadn’t felt the bitter cold against his exposed arms from where his shirt sleeves were rolled up. He hadn’t cared that people were gasping at him, or abruptly turning and hurrying away, the screams of terror didn’t even make him blink. He had eyes only for the envelope in his palm.  
Frost had heard the commotion however, and had followed him out, abruptly steering his Boss – surprisingly without complaint - out of the way of eyes and into a back alley where deliveries were unloaded to supply the building and those neighbouring.  
J had opened the letter then, to be greeted with a polished, expensive piece of card, the edges frilled and bordered with a golden piece of string tied in a bow at one corner. Inside this gold frame was a picturesque Christmas scene of an old Victorian village, snow coating the pavements and roads, street lamps spotted along it with candles glowing dully behind the frosted glass, children running down the pavements, leaving footprints behind them as they dashed past a butcher shop with meat hung in the window, and made for a glowing shop full of old fashion jars of traditional sweets. In the centre of the card was a couple, both in typical Victorian era dress, wrapped in thick coats and scarves, with fluffy hats perched on their heads, wandering down the middle of the street, their backs to J, arms entwined in a classic couple’s walk.  
He has stared at the card, absorbing the details and then flicking it open.  
Dear J,  
Hope you’ve had a good year, and aren’t alone this time of year – you know what you’re like.   
Wishing you a Merry Christmas and A Happy New Year.  
All the best.  
Y/N x

J was brought back to himself in the penthouse, staring down at the same piece of writing - now slightly less legible, thanks to the abuse the card had suffered by his crushing hand. Reading it again, only refreshed the anger and pain. He crumpled the note once more, less resistance this time, and tried to fling the paper across the room behind him. It, however, caught on the air created by his arm and fell limply to the floor only a few feet from him. He growled out loud in frustration, crushing his teeth together as he snarled at the offending card.  
“Boss?”  
J shot his gaze up to face Frost, the man have seemed to have apparated in the doorway, dressed in his usual simple black suit and tie with a trimmed beard and hair combed neatly back. Frost’s face was an emotionless mask, deciding it best to show no reaction to J’s behaviour or the fact that his chest was heaving with a strong emotion. “A message from the front desk has just been sent up. Someone is asking to come up.”  
“Who?” J demanded moodily. He had no important meetings planned with anyone.  
“I don’t know. They didn’t say.”  
J scowled, not in the mood for any surprise drop in’s from Cobblepot or Eddie. But, maybe that was what he needed, to let his frustration out on someone else. “Send them up.” J muttered, already heading towards his office, fiddling with his pistol in its holster. Frost was slightly surprised by this request, expecting to have to turn them away, but he said nothing, heading off to fulfil his order.   
J fell into the large, leather chair, laying his pistol out on the large wooden desk in front of him. Knowing his luck, it was probably Harley coming back to beg for him again, J rolled his eyes at this thought. The girl was annoying, but at least she wanted to be around him, unlike – it seemed – someone else.  
J didn’t have to wait too long until there was an impatient knock on the office door. He grunted an acknowledgement, not bothering to look up from some papers he’d been flicking through, until Frost cleared his throat. J glanced up then, watching as he stepped aside to reveal a woman stood straight and proper behind him.  
[Y/N].  
J’s expression didn’t change, the emotionless mask still perfectly in place, but in his head the voices were screaming at him.  
“Merry Christmas, J.” [Y/N] smiled warmly from the doorway, as though this was just a lovely social visit. J’s facial expression still didn’t change, a permeant frown of indifference.  
“Bah, humbug.” He muttered quietly, turning his eyes back to his work.  
“J!” She reprimanded, crossing the room as Frost quickly made an exit from the office, closing the door behind him. “You don’t mean that.” She told him crossly.  
“I do.” He sulked, refusing to raise his eyes like a petulant child. [Y/N] stopped directly in front of his desk, crossing her arms, annoyed. He lifted his gaze then, almost having to smirk. He used to love annoying her until she folded her arms at him.  
He swallowed everything down though, “And what right do you have, doll, to stroll in here,” He said, waving a hand at the path she had made across his office, “and demand me to have a merry Christmas?” He asked with a raised invisible brow. “Why are you so merry, hmm…?” He pressed What do you have to be merry about...?” He said with a malicious sneer before returning his gaze back to the papers on the top of his desk.  
“What right do you have to be so grumpy?!” [Y/N] demanded angrily, “I know you’ve had a successful run of heists - none of which the bat has managed to foil! I also know that you’re about to be declared the most powerful crime boss in the city!”  
“Keeping tabs on me, are you kitten?” J teased cruelly. “Humbug.” He repeated simply again, knowing it would only dig into her more. She treated that word like it was a profanity, like a personal insult to herself as a person.  
“Stop it J!” She demanded moodily.  
“Why, doll?” Drawled J, acting truly intrigued, and leaning lazily back in his chair. “Why should I act any differently when every idiot in the city is acting like the world is suddenly the most wonderful? When apparently every low life and piece of scum is now supposedly fill with good peace and joy? Hmm?” He asked, politely, gesturing, his palms open, in comedic confusion. “Last time I checked it was the same world as last month…” He looked to be thinking about this statement very hard, “Nothing has changed…” He continued to muse, “… And yet people suddenly seem to care about how you are and what you’re doing, even if they haven’t spoken to you all year…” J kept his eyes away from Y/N in an exaggerated thinking posture, but he knew he’d hit home with that mark and almost felt her flinch.  
“Personally, princess,” J concluded, shifting his gaze back to her, steepling his hands together, “I believe everyone running around and crying Merry Christmas to every soul ought to be shot in the head before they infect others with their fake, pointless cheer.”  
“J!” [Y/N] cried, and he thought he noticed her eyes were wet. But in that moment, he saw her bristle, toughening herself up for what was to come next. “I would have thought you of all people would embrace this time of year.” She pointed, only the faint trace of emotion left in her voice. “Forming your fun little pranks, wrapping the bat in miles of enforced tinsel or trapping robin in a giant bauble!” [Y/N] suggested wildly, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation. “I’d almost encourage all of that over this!” She exclaimed, gesturing around at the dark office, J not bothering to open the curtains and the only light coming from the dimmed lamps scattered around the room.  
“If you don’t like it, doll, I suggest you leave.” J grumbled, grabbing for his papers again.  
“J.” [Y/N] said, trying to get his attention back, “I came here to ask if you would like to spend Christmas with me.” [Y/N] said, refusing to be dismissed so easily. Her voice was calm again, almost slowed, like she was trying to spell out reason to a sulking child.  
The voices got louder in his mind, but J didn’t bother to look up, ignoring her. She had left 4 years ago and now she suddenly wanted to spend Christmas with him?  
[Y/N] lost her temper then. “I’m am asking anything from but your company, J! And not even for my sake – but for yours!”  
“Good evening, doll.” Was all J said in return, his eyes still on the desk.  
[Y/N] was silent for a moment. “J…” Her voice cracked slightly.  
“Good. Evening. Doll.” He said through a clenched jaw, still refusing to look up. He heard [Y/N] let out a loud sigh.  
“Merry Christmas, J.” She whispered down at him one last time before she then left the office, leaving the door open. J heard her bid Frost a merry Christmas, which Frost returned enthusiastically to her, whilst J scowled in the dark. Even Frost was infected with the seasonal ‘good cheer’.  
J heard the main door to the penthouse close behind [Y/N] and growled and muttered at himself.  
“Boss?” J rolled his eyes down at the desk before he lifted his head to Frost once more. “Jacobs and Kens are here.” Frost informed him. J inhaled sharply. “They say they have an idea.”  
“They do, do they…” J grinned nastily. Maybe he had finally found something to take his mind off [Y/N]. Frost knew that look and so let the men through - he wasn’t one to stand in the way of his boss’s entertainment.  
The men stepped awkwardly into the doorway, one of them rapping nervously at the open door. J raised his gaze to them in answer. “Uh, hey boss – uh –“ One man led the way, the other followed silently behind. “Me and - uh – Ken ‘er,” the first man began, gesturing behind at his companion, “we ‘ere ‘oping to speak with Miss [L/N] – “  
“Miss [L/N] has not worked with me for 4 years now…” Drawled J, watching them coldly, and the men stopped dead in the centre of the room.  
“Oh.” The first man said in surprise, “Uh – well – well- ma’be we can speak with you then, boss?” He floundered, Ken behind him staying silent. “Ya, see we’re ‘ere to propose a li’l scheme that we thin’ would relly work over this ol’ seas’n!” the man said excitedly.  
“Is Eddy boy busy?” Inquired J politely. The two men looked at him confused, then realised who he was referring to.  
“Uh – no, sir, not that I know of.”  
“And what about ol’ Harvey boy?” He asked as though genuinely intrigued.  
“No, sir.” They answered simply, though confusion was evident in their voice.  
J nodded along to these answers politely. Suddenly he stopped, now staring at the men and they noticeably flinched. “Then why, my fine gentleman, have you chosen to muddy my carpet to bring me nothing but words?”  
“Well – boss – we know that you’re the – the most powerful man in Gotham at the moment – “  
“At the moment, hmm?” J snapped, pushing to himself suddenly to his feet once more, “Do you mean to say your loyalty lies in power alone, hmm?” J growled, “The minute someone makes a move to rob me, you change sides is that it, boys?”  
“N-N-No, sir.” The first man stuttered, and Ken was violently shaking his head.  
“Then I suggest you stick to your jobs description…” J drawled, “And your rank… And do not try to interfere with my business...” J growled, lowering himself back to his seat. “You’re not paid to think above your station and are you not paid enough?” J asked, daring them to answer wrongly.  
“No – of course not, sir, the money – the money is good.”  
“Just good, hmm?”  
“It’s great, brilliant.”  
“Well in that case maybe I should reduce it!” J suggested brightly, toying with the men. Their faces were priceless - such looks of alarm and fear he had to cackle at them. “Oooo I tease!” He chuckled and they weakly laughed along with him.  
And then he stopped, suddenly dead serious. “But, boys… Let us get this straight… There will be no more ‘work’ until I say so. That does not mean, though,” He added as a look of joy crossed their faces at the prospect of time off – “that there are not other jobs that need doing – like shifting some rather valuable items out of the city.” He hinted. They nodded along obediently, trying to hide their disappointment from him.  
They remained standing there, as though waiting for more instructions until J raised an invisible eyebrow at them and they realised they were being dismissed. They then quickly took their leave, walking quickly out of the office.  
Just when J thought he had peace, another shadow appeared in the still open doorway. J growled at his paperwork again.  
Frost didn’t even flinch at the noise, but he knew to tread carefully.   
“Boss?” Frost began warily - you didn’t want to show J weakness, but you needed to show respect towards his temper. J snapped his head up to the slightly taller man. “Sir, it’s Christmas day tomorrow. I was hoping I could have the day off.”  
“And what could you possibly want that for?” J demanded. “It’s not like you have a family.”  
“Actually, sir. It’s my sister. She’s visiting with her children.” Frost explained, knowing J didn’t care and already knowing the answer.  
But J didn’t answer, instead he eyed Frost carefully, searching his face as though daring him to show an inch to the fact he was lying.  
“It’s just the one day, boss.” Frost insisted. He had, of course, hoped for more – having no seen his sister in 3 years, and her being not so well off and with 3 kids to handle – but that would be pushing his already thin luck.  
“Fine.” J snorted. It wasn’t like he was planning anything any time soon, and Frost was loyal, J needed him to stay that way. He wanted respect and fear, not hatred. Hatred sparked betrayal.  
“With pay?” Asked Frost. It wasn’t for him. Most of his pay went to his sister, and this time of year he wanted to save up as much as possible to give her a good Christmas and let her forget her troubles for a few days.  
“Fine.” J growled. And Frost knew that was all he would get and quickly vanished from sight before J could change his mind.  
J returned his gaze to the paperwork, but his head was pounding heavily, and he rubbed at his pale temple before he clenched his jaw and shoved himself up and away from the desk, heading towards the whisky decanter on a small table in the corner of the room. He poured a large glass of amber liquid into an ornate crystal glass and headed out of the room, heading to his large bedroom, passing windows that framed the icy streets and snow that had begun to flutter past the window panes. The image of the Victorian scene in the card flashed in his mind, but he pushed it down. He hated what [Y/N] could do to him.  
She’d always loved this time of year. When they’d been together she had made him promise every year to not pull any crime within the 2 weeks around Christmas – she had wanted the whole month, but he’d managed to talk her down – it was his job after all he had pointed out. There had been strict rules for this – he would be allowed to spend the 2 weeks doing general admin and moving supplies around, and she had to keep him distracted, which she happily obliged with, spending all her time around the penthouse filling it with her Christmas spirit.  
But that had started 9 years ago. She had been gone 4 years now.  
Yet he still stuck to his promise - though there was nothing to entertain him any longer. In a spout of bitter hatred, he had specifically not stuck to it the year she had left, but he had been reckless and careless, and after only a short time he had landed himself in Arkham for 6 months, too depressed to do much about escaping.  
Harley had busted him out eventually - hoping to gain some favours back - but he had ignored her and it didn’t take too long for her to give up and run back to Pamela.  
Now he stuck to his promise – he couldn’t find a reason not to in his confused head. [Y/N] confused him. And Christmas was [Y/N] to J. So Christmas confused him. He was normal the rest of the year, but once December hit he practically hibernated away till after New Year.  
He had tried to get [Y/N] back of course. Tired the minute she left. He’d sent Frost and his men out every day for a year trying to find her, yet they always came back with nothing. J had taught her well. She had vanished off the grid from him.  
Eventually J had stopped asking for updates on the search and the men had got the gist and stopped bothering to look, things returning to normal like she had never existed.  
But J always got a Christmas card from her. He would always forget until the day it arrived. It was like she was wiped from his memory until the day the envelope turned up, then, for a brief moment, she was back in the form of a basic wish of a Merry Christmas before she vanished again. Out of reach.  
By now J had downed the glass of strong alcohol and reached his room. He paused at the door and stared blindly at it, the voices loud and all too real in his mind. He could hear Y/N’s voice loud and clear, all the others nameless voices except for one - old Marlo’s voice.  
He shook his head. He never heard Marlo. Not since he died 5 years ago.  
He angrily shoved the door trying to make as much noise in the real word to drown out the incessant noise in his ears. J headed straight to the decanter he knew was on his bedside table, once again pouring himself another large drink which he quickly downed like a parched man, and refilling it once more.  
He could feel the alcohol warming its way through his body and slowly numbing the ache in his head. He walked to the window and stared out into the dark, the street lights showing late night shoppers and couples heading back from the centre of town. Prime meat for petty criminals. Not for J. He sipped now at the amber liquid, his eyes falling on his reflection rather than the city behind the glass.  
He didn’t jump, or abruptly turn when the other face appeared behind him in his reflection. There was no way there was anyone else in the room with him, but it wasn’t the first time he had hallucinated, and the strong alcohol surely wasn’t helping.  
“Evening, Marlo.” He greeted pleasantly to the ghostly figure in the glass, not surprised to see the old gangster after hearing his voice. The figment gave him a forced smile in greeting, clearly not pleased about something. “How’s life – sorry” J smirked, clearly not sorry for his ‘accidental’ slip up, “- how’s death?”  
“We need to talk, lad.” Came the familiar rough voice. But this time it wasn’t in J’s head, it came from directly behind him. His hallucinations never talked back. He’d rather they didn’t. He let his gaze drop from the window, before looking back to the glass and finding Marlo still in the glass. That wouldn’t do, this figment was persistent.  
J turned now, back to the room, and away from the haunting glass. Except he stopped almost instantly when he came face to face with Marlo - exactly where he should have been if he was real. Joker kept the shock from his face, his expression the well-practised mask of blankness.  
His hallucinations must be getting worse. All the more fun for him. He took another large gulp of alcohol, hoping that oblivion would overpower his constantly buzzing mind and he would be able to rid himself of this ghost and fall into an abyss of exhaustion that was calling for him.  
He attempted to ignore the hallucination of the dead man and pushed forward, walking straight through him. A cold wave of something travelled through him as he did it and it made J stiffen, but he continued to the wingback chair on the other side of the room, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the bedside table on the way and refilling his now empty glass.  
“Look, lad.” Came the voice and he reluctantly looked up at the figure that had moved closer, now standing at the foot of his bed. “I don’t ‘ave much time.”  
“I don’t believe you have any time.” Growled J back, not in the mood for his own mind’s games. “I believe your time was up when that bullet hit you in the chest 5 years ago.”  
The figment smirked reluctantly, “Always so funny.” He muttered as J dropped down into the chair in front of him still holding the whiskey bottle. “Still chuggin’ on the good stuff as well I see.” He pointed out.  
“Clearly I have no imagination if all you’re here to do it observe everything I’m doing...” J drawled.   
The man frowned, stepping – thought it looked more like floating - forward a few more foot. “You think I’m one of ya hallucinations, don’t ya boy?” He inquired. J ignored the ‘lad’s and ‘boy’s, knowing that was Marlo in his mind, and nothing was going to stop him treating J like the young man he had been when Marlo originally met him. J stoppering the decanter in his hand and placed it on the small table next to him - only one glass left in the bottle now. “I guess that’s the problem with visiting a man who’s already ravin’ mad.” The phantom pointed out.  
The Joker continued to be silent, but he sipped the drink, watching the hallucination carefully. He was trying to decide if he was glad to see Marlo or not. He couldn’t help the fact that he missed his character, he was, after all, his old mentor from when he was a petty criminal.  
“Think of me wha’ ya want, boy” The figment of Marlo, told him, mistaking his far-off expression, “but I hav a message and ya need to lis’en.”  
“When have I ever listened to you?” Joker grinned over at his old friend, hallucination or not.  
“Never.” Marlo admitted with a small smirk, “And it some’ow worked out for ya. But I’m beggin’ ya to listen jus’ this once.”  
Joker rolled his eyes, waving his hand impatiently, the sooner he ‘listened’ the sooner the figment would vanish.  
The figment moved even closer, taking a seat in the identical chair next to him. Just like J knew him, he didn’t beat around the bush. “When I died I tol’ ya to rule it all, didn’t I lad? Aye, I remember the words. I knew ya’d be able ta. Easily.” Marlo said, his eyes looking at J, but not seeing him, lost in memories. “I told ya ta do it because I ha’ tried, and I ha’ failed.” J cold eyes watched him calculating. “And though ya say ya never listen, lad,” he teased, like he did when J was younger, “I know ya did.” J didn’t say anything, too focused on the ‘ghost’. Marlo sighed heavily now and he suddenly seemed to be weighed down strongly by something. “But I’m now askin’ ya to forget it. It’s not you, lad. It never has been. My goal was riches and power. Yas never was. Ya the Joker!” He exclaimed gesturing at the criminal across from him as if that explained everything.   
J continued to stare at the man and the man watched him back. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, almost husky, like it was after he had yelled at J when he caught him disobeying orders.  
“Ya losin’ yaself in the need to fulfil what I asked of ya.”  
“You might have asked me, but that doesn’t mean I had to do it.” J growled, “I’m not doing anything because of you.” Marlo had a look of pity that J remembered all to well from years ago when J had been half the man he was now – when he’d been lost and ignorant.  
J could say what he wanted to Marlo, but the man knew him too well to buy his bullshit. “You’ve looked better, old man.” J pointed out with a grin, changing the subject to get rid of that look of pity. It was true though, the figment before him wasn’t like the man J had once known, his clothes were torn and dirtied, and J now noticed the large hole in Marlo’s chest which was surrounded by a particularly large stain. Where the bullet had hit.  
J wished he’d been there. He would have tortured the man that did it. It had been during a gang fight for power - a cause that Marlo had dedicated his life to - and J, having at this time moved on from Marlo’s teachings, had been on the other side of the city. By the time he got wind of the new and had arrived on the scene, reinforcements had already arrived and dealt with the killer with a simple shot to the head. Too easy. Too nice. J had found Marlo left to bleed out and barely alive, no hope of survival.  
“Ya don’t look much better, yaself.” Marlo gently ribbed, gesturing to the messy hair where J had ruffled it by repeatedly running his fingers through the green strands, and the dark shadows that lay under his eyes. He didn’t even begin to comment on the sheer number of drinks he knew the clown had downed that evening.  
J grunted something unintelligible sounding like ‘careful’.  
Marlo chuckled quietly. “I’d like ta say ya’re the same lad I knew, but ya aren’t.” J watched him, waiting for him to explain himself. “Ya more like me now.”  
“Yeah, well you were always good at your job.” J pointed out lazily, reclining back in his chair.  
Marlo nodded sadly, “My job, but nothing else, lad” He said. “Money and power was all I had. Nothing else to my life…” He trailed off and seemed to be lost in his own mind, a vacant, far off look in his eyes. “An’ now I’m dead. An’ I’m alone. Always alone.” J said nothing, but Marlo could sense the scepticism. “Yeah, it sounds sappy,” he brushed off, “ – an’ I didn’t believe it at firs’ – but I’ve been there, hell I’m there righ’ now!” Marlo explained, his face looking older and more haggard. “But I’ve learn’ the ‘ard way tha’ – when ya’re dead – ya’re only companions are those that loved ya in yar life, and who ya in turn loved - they ‘re who ya’ll spend eternity with, lad.”  
J let out a long, cold, emotionless laugh. “That’s rich! Tell me another sob story, bring some tissues this time.” He cackled.   
“I would have laughed too if I wan’t stuck in it.” The look on Marlo’s face made J stop mid laugh. He may be a phantom, but J could still read the truth in his eyes, just like the man had taught him.  
“Aww, come on Marl!” J joked, leaning forward, but the cold seriousness on Marl’s face made him relent, “Ok, say it’s true…” He sneered, “What about your own mother?”  
“Does ya mother love ya?” Marlo asked in return, but he didn’t wait for the answer, instead he shrugged, “I showed ‘er no love, she showed me none in return.” He said simply.  
“No wives? Girls that took an untimely end?”  
“Never marrie’. Never kept a girl more than a week.” He admitted. “’ope they’re all alive anyway. I didn’t know them, though, lad. Didn’t care enough.”  
“Surely Finn and Hugh have some weird… man crush on you.” The Joker pointed out with a smirk.  
“Even if they did, they aren’t dead yet – seen Finn out by the Harbour, an’ Hugh’s left town.” Marlo informed him, “But can’t say by the en’ that I loved ‘em in return, lad. He admitted sadly, “Power does that ta ya - makes you anxious, nervy. Ya push people away. Even those loyal ta ya.” He looked at the man across from him, but J couldn’t understand the expression in his eyes.  
“That’s why I’m ‘ere lad. Ya don’t have ta do tha’, or end up like this.” He said, gesturing to himself. “Ya ‘ad that sweet girl – Y/N.”  
“She’s gone.” J growled sullenly.  
“No, lad, she ain’t.” Marlo stated. “Ya’ve pushed ‘er away, but she never left ya’. Make it righ’, boy.”   
“You’re a love expert now, hmm?” J questioned with a raised cocky eyebrow.  
“I don’t claim to be, but forever is a long time alone - even if ya think you like ta be alone.” The figment said with a knowing look in his eye, easily able to read J. “There’s no distractions once ya’re dead, lad. Nothin’ to take your mind off the emp’iness ya’re hiding from righ’ now.”  
“Right….” Dragged J, rolling his eyes, “Thanks for the therapy session…” He smirked lazily falling back into the cushions behind him, about done with this conversation now.  
“Look, lad. I’m not a hallucination - contrary to what you migh’ like to kid ya’self, and I don’t know why you can see me now when the truth is I’ve been watchin’ you for over a year. Why I can suddenly speak ta you, I can’t be sure, lad, but I can make the most of it and warn ya – because – lad – as much as I never said it, and as much as you’d ‘ate for me ta say it – I actually care abou’ ya lad.” Marlo suddenly got to his feet. “Ya ‘ave a chance to avoid wha’ I’m going through and I strongly sugges’ ya take it.” He said, beginning to walk towards the window, though the way he was speaking it was clear he wanted to stay longer, but something was propelling him to the window. “For some reason ya’ve been given a change, lad. Take it. Get Y/N back. If no one else – get ‘er.” He almost begged, “The firs’ one ‘lll be ‘ere at 12 an’ –“  
With that the voice was lost from the phantom, though his lips continued to move, and his feet walked him right into and through the penthouse wall, his body merging into the glass. J watched, cursing his over active imagination, as what appeared to a silvery gas seemed to rise off the window into the black night outside and drifted up into the air, like smoke from a chimney, blending amongst the snowflakes that continued to fall.  
J remained in his armchair for a few moments, sat in thought, before he glanced sharply at the last mouthful of drink in his glass and ignored it, placing the crystal on the table and heading for the bed. Clearly his mind was past the point of any small glimpse of sanity for this evening and he didn’t want to encourage it further with more alcohol.  
He fell asleep to the numbing heat of the alcohol in his system, and the sound of the sharp cold wind outside the window that reminded him of Marlo.


	2. Day 2 - Ivy x Harley - Christmas Memories Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never really written these two characters before - so I apologise if they're not great!  
> Hope you enjoy anyway! (This one is part of a 2 part series)

Ivy suddenly became conscious, and she had to wonder for a moment what had woke her, when she heard a loud crashing from the direction of the kitchen. She rolled her eyes knowing exactly what it was.   
Harley was up to something.  
Crawling out of bed, she didn’t bother to tackle the messy nest of hair on top of her head, instead she stormed straight across the room, throwing open the bedroom door and strode the small distance across the bungalow to the shabby square kitchen. She stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, finding Harley was skipping back and forth between the counters and the tiny table, both of which were piles high with carboard boxes, some suspiciously leaking colourful strings of light and Ivy could see glimpses of the shiny, rounded surface of baubles. Ivy raised a questioning eyebrow at the young girl prancing around the room.  
Harley stopped in mid flounce when she noticed Ivy in the doorway. “Mornin’ Red!” She squealed excitedly, her grin wider than her face and Ivy noticed she was holding a bundle of tinsel in her arms. Ivy raised a questioning eyebrow at her and Harley suddenly seemed to register Ivy’s dishevelled, half asleep, appearance because her grin change to a sheepish look of shame, and she cringed back slightly in apology. “Did I wake you?” She asked timidly. Ivy’s look gave her the answer. “I’m reeeeaaalllyyy sorry, Red…” Harley whined in apology, stepping back, away from the red headed woman, hiding her tinsel out of sight.   
“What are you doing, Harl?” She asked, frowning at the boxes, ignoring the fact she should be annoyed, and more intrigued about what had got Harley so riled up so early in the morning.  
Harley’s grin returned instantly as she realised Ivy wasn’t going to chide her “It’s December 1st!” She exclaimed excitedly.  
“So?”  
“So, it’s Christmas!” Cried Harley, bouncing up and down on the stop, no longer troubling to hide the tinsel.  
“No, Harls. It’s the first of December.” Ivy pointed out in a bored tone, moving into the kitchen and picking up a strand of light between her fingers, a look of slight disgust on her face. “Christmas” She corrected, “Isn’t until the 25th of December.”  
“But ya gotta put the decorations up before then!” Harley exclaimed as though the thought of anything else was insane. Ivy’s expression didn’t change as she threw the lights back into the box.  
“Could you at least wait a few weeks?” Ivy asked, continuing to look over the other boxes, not wanting to open any of them in case Christmas suddenly erupted out.  
Harley’s smile dropped completely now, her lips quivering and her whole body hanging dejectedly, the tinsel limp in her hands. Ivy sighed loudly in exasperation. Great. Now the girl was going to mope around the house for the next couple of weeks or until Ivy gave into her. It was like living with a 3-year-old.   
“Urgh.” She groaned, “Fine, Harl! Fine!” She resigned, “Hang the bloody things up!”  
Harley jumped immediately back to herself, giggling excitedly and diving into the pile of boxes. When she emerged, she noticed Ivy walking back toward her room. “Don’t ya wanna help, Red?” She questioned, innocently.  
“Not really Harls.” Ivy muttered continuing to walk away.  
“But RRReeddd!” Harley whined at her friend’s retreating back, “Christmas is all about friends and family and coming together!” She explained, hugging a large plastic Santa she had found. Ivy rolled her eyes again in annoyance. Guess she wasn’t getting a lie in today.  
“Fine.” She groaned, rubbing at her face in exhaustion. “What do you want me to do?”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What is that?” Ivy asked across the room as Harley grabbed something gold from a box. Harley frowned, lifting the object up for her to see.  
“It’s a star.” She explained, showing it to her plainly.  
“No.” Ivy said, annoyance in her voice. “It’s a tree topper. You have a Christmas tree don’t you?” She accused.  
“It’s plastic!” Harley promised quickly, panicking and hiding the tree topper behind her back.  
“I don’t care if it’s made from bricks!” Cried Ivy in indignation, “It’s encouraging those blood thirsty murderers to saw down every pine tree within the state!” She shouted. “We are not having a Christmas tree! I am not supporting plant slaughter even with imitations!”  
Harley gulped, hanging her head in shame. “Sorry, Red.” She apologised glumly, she knew better than to whine or pout to get her way now. A plastic tree had been her only hope, but she knew how strongly Ivy felt about these things. Harley dropped the plastic star back into the box, looking forlornly at the baubles she had hoped to hang on her tree.  
Then Harley’s eyes suddenly lit up with an idea, “Can I hang the tree decorations around the house instead then?” She asked anxiously, still slightly nervous of Ivy’s temper.  
Ivy looked at her with a calculating expression. “Fine.” She allowed, and Harley squealed with joy. “But nothing with a Christmas tree on it!” Ivy called after the bobbing blond pigtails as Harley raced off through the house with a box of clanging decorations.  
Whilst Harley threw baubles in every available space in the house, Ivy continued to dig through the storage boxes – though rather more unenthusiastically than Harley had been. The girl had collected quite an assortment of Christmas junk and Ivy wondered how she could possibly have owned all this much stuff – and moved with it – when she would have been constantly on the run, moving from hideout to hideout with that psychotic ex-boyfriend of hers.  
Ivy examined the boxes, finding labels on all of them from a storage company in Gotham, with a fake name attached. Ivy could see Harley now – going each year to her storage and transporting all these boxes to the newest warehouse or abandoned factory to then spend the next few days decorating every inch of the gloomy place. Ivy guessed the Joker hadn’t even noticed the change - or the amount of effort the kid would have went through to make the place look nice.  
Ivy clenched her jaw at the thought as she continued to look through each of the boxes. She hated that clown, and what he’d done to the poor girl that now roomed with her. What was worse, Ivy thought, discovering a rather heavy box full of photos, was Harley still clearly had a thing for him. Shifting through the mass of images, Ivy pulled out random polaroids, all of depicting the same theme each time – a picture of Harley and the Joker in different Christmas scenes. In none of them, did the crime lord look at all happy - most of them seemed to be Harley grinning and taking the picture, whilst the clown could be seen in the background, busy ignoring her. Ivy would have bet the Joker would have backhanded the kid across the room if he knew anything about these pictures.  
Ivy continued to flick through the box, though it was almost painful to do so, occasionally she would pull out one to look at it better before she then replaced it with a strong surge of pity for the poor kid and her huge heart.  
Just then Harley came prancing into the room and Ivy jumped back from the box like she had been stung, and, instead, busied herself with the one next to it. The last thing she wanted to do was draw Harley’s attention to it she - she’d probably completely forgot about the box of Christmas memories and if she did see it she was sure it would drag the kid back into the slump she always got in whenever she thought for a moment about the clown. Ivy could only imagine it would be worse this time of year.  
“All the baubles are up!” Harley declared happily, making her way straight to another box. She grabbed and edge and peered into it, then picked it up, shook it to confirm her suspicion and then threw it to the floor when it came up empty.  
She quickly moved onto the next one, sidling up to Ivy and – in the merry mood she was in – swung her hips so they bumped Ivy’s playfully and letting out a giggle. “Le’s see what’s next.” She cried gleefully, clapping her hands together. Ivy could only give her a forced smile, knowing all too well what was going to happen next, but Harley didn’t seem to notice – clearly use to the lack of enthusiasm. Ivy’s fears were confirmed, however, when Harley flung open the flaps of the box and caught a look at its contents. Immediately her lips formed a silent ‘Oh’ and her arms went limp as she stared down into the depths. She slowly reached in, scoping up a large pile with her two hands and letting the photos fall blindly through her fingers. Ivy cringed mentally as to what was bound to happen next.  
“Harl?” Ivy asked after a short while of this repeated behaviour. Harley looked up at the voice, but Ivy wasn’t sure she was seeing her, and her eyes were shiny with tears waiting to fall. Harley held up a single photo and Ivy mentally cringed at what was bound to happen next when she saw the image – Harley taking a selfie with a large grin and thumbs up, whilst J was bent over a desk, studying a blueprint intensely with his back to her.  
Harleys lips began to wobble and then the tears came in floods. She tried to speak, but it was all indistinct blubbering that Harley couldn’t make out - though she was sure she heard the word ‘puddin’ between the racking sobs.  
Ivy managed to pry the image from the girls fingers and led her over to the nearby sofa, helping her drop onto the cushion, the tears still running fast. Ivy didn’t want to leave her there, but she turned back to the kitchen and gathered up the pictures Harley had dropped, throwing them back into the box and then quickly moving the box to her own room, shoving it unceremoniously in the bottom of her wardrobe. She wouldn’t get rid of it. Harley wouldn’t want that. Not yet.  
The problem now out of sight, and hopefully soon out of mind, Ivy returned to Harley who had now curled herself into the sofa, sobbing and sniffling with her head buried in a cushion.  
Ivy fell onto the small bit of sofa left next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. “Aww cheer up, Harls!” She comforted, “You don’t need him anymore! Us girls can have our own fun!”   
Harley lifted her head up from the pillow and Ivy had to try hard not to recoil from the puffy red mess. “Really Red, ya mean it?”  
“Of course, Harls!” She encouraged, “When have I ever not been up for some girl fun! Now, let’s have some herbal tea, we’ll finish decorating the place, then we can hit the town and make sure everyone regret that it’s the holiday season!”


	3. Day 3 - BatFamily - Decorating the BatCave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've - again - never written these characters before and this was just silly little idea I came up with one day so I thought I'd give it a go, but I don't apologise if its a bit shit haha  
> Hope you enjoy it anyway!

“Alfred.” Bruce Wayne called up to his elderly butler as he descended the last few steps into the Batcave, carrying a tray of food and coffee, “What is this?”  
Alfred Pennyworth raised his gaze to the item in question as he walked smartly across the room, placing the tray down on the one small, available surface. He observed the end that hung in Bruce’s hand, the rest still draped where the man had found it around the large monitor of the BatComputer.  
“That would be a fairy light, sir.” Alfred said in his characteristic bored tone.  
“Yes,” Bruce couldn’t help but smirk slightly at the usefulness of his old friend, “But why is it here?”   
“Well, you see, sir, it is traditional at this time of year to decorate ones home with such ornaments and –“  
“Yes, Alfred, I know what Christmas is.” Bruce broke in before he was lectured. “But why is it down here?”  
“I believe, Master Tim and Master Damian thought it would be nice.” Said Alfred pleasantly.  
Bruce let out a heavy sigh. “We have an entire mansion upstairs for all this stuff.” Bruce grumbled, pulling at the irritating string of multi-coloured lights.  
“I’ll inform the boys.” Said Alfred formally. “Anything else, sir?” He enquired.  
Bruce shook his head. “No, Alfred, I just need you to cancel that Soiree tomorrow night, I have a feeling I’ll be busy.”  
“Yes, sir, one bout of food poisoning coming right up.” He joked, those his face remained completely serious. Seeing no other items requiring his services, Alfred began to head back for the passageway leading up to the house above.  
“Oh, and Alfred?”  
“Hm?”  
“Take these with you.” Bruce called, throwing the pile of lights up to elderly man who caught them deftly in one hand, barely batting an eyelid. He didn’t say another word as he departed.  
\-------------------------------------------

Later that evening the batmobile roared into the Batcave, it’s wheels screeching to a halt in it’s designated spot. Batman his arm swung across his stomach to hold a broken rib, jumped out, followed shortly by a rather battered looking Robin.   
Alfred entered the batcave from his usual entrance as Batman limped his way up to the batcomputer, flinching slightly with each step. “Rough night, sir?” Alfred asked pleasantly like he was enquiring about the weather outside. Bruce just grimaced in answer.  
“Turns out Ivy, Harley and Selina are back together again.” Explained Tim, pulling off his mask as he dragged himself up behind Bruce. He glanced down at this arm and clutched at it where the sleeve had been torn by either a stray cat claw or thorny man eating plant.  
“Wonderful.” Said Alfred dryly.  
Bruce had now reached the top level of the cavern’s many floors, but stopped in his path to the computer, taking in the scene before him. “What is this?” He asked, annoyance clear in his tone.  
Neither Tim or Alfred answered as Bruce strode over to the large computer system. Not only had the fairy lights been replaced, but now the other, smaller screens, that surrounded the main monitor, were decked with tinsel that reflected the dim industrial lighting above them.  
Bruce pulled at a piece of gold tinsel and it easily fell off, now dangling in his hand. He immediately turned on Tim who threw his arms up in surrender. “It wasn’t me, honestly!” He swore, eyes wide in panic.  
Bruce frowned, unconvinced, and then his eyes moved to Alfred who didn’t flinch or change expression. “Get me the other boys.” He stated darkly, turning back to the computer.  
“I’m afraid I can’t, sir. They all appear to be out.” Alfred informed him.  
“All of them?” Bruce clarified, turning back to the butler in surprise.  
“It would seem so.”  
Bruce grumbled something to himself, bundling up the tinsel and pitching it over the edge of the railing closest to him so it fell into the dark watery depths of the cavern below. He then did the same to the rest of the tinsel, scowling the whole time whilst Tim and Alfred watched.  
Bruce removed the fairy lights once more and turned to the two others with him. “These.” He said, holding aloft the string of lights at Tim, “Fling them around the house as much as you want – but they are banned from down here.” He tossed them over to the boy who reflectively caught them, giving Bruce a single obedient nod, though his eyes were still wary. He hurried off them – as much as his injuries would let him – to change and tend to his wounds.  
Alfred watched this and caught Bruce’s eye as he turned back to the monitor, giving him a raised eyebrow that Bruce shook off, turning his attention instead on some much-needed surveillance monitoring.  
\---------------------------------------------

Despite Bruce’s protests and threats, the decorations continued to appear in the batcave. He had attempted to catch the culprits red handed with the cameras within the cave, but clearly someone knew how to hack into the system as the footage went dead at intervals, and, when it returned, a new decoration would be in place.   
He had a feeling Alfred might be aiding and abetting them.  
First it was the strand of lights again, then the tinsel – the offenders having bought more – which Bruce found draped around the capsules containing the batman and robin uniforms, then paper chains appeared hanging from the sides of the cave and weaving back and forth across the space above him.  
The most recent addition had been baubles that had been hung on any available ‘hook’ that could be found around the cave.  
Bruce sighed heavily as he made his way down to the cave that afternoon. It almost had become entertaining for him to see what new things had popped up, but he made sure to maintain a dark scowl throughout – no need to encourage them.   
Of course, every time he found it decorated he made sure to remove everything – either bringing it back up to the house, or just binning it. Yet they always came back, and always with an extra decoration on top of them.  
As he descended the secret passageway from the mansion the cave, he caught a pungent, warming scent of orange and cinnamon and thought he could a low murmuring as he took one of the turns in the long staircase. Was he going to catch them in the act this time?  
But as he got closer Bruce realised it wasn’t people, but music playing out from the cave. Christmas music.  
He strode with a frown into the cavern to find the batcomputer cheerfully singing out classic Christmas tunes, and the scent – even stronger now – appeared to be coming from the wreaths that hung either side of the entrance way to the stairs.   
But that wasn’t all this time – the boys had gone all out and somehow managed to erect a large Christmas tree on, sat to the right-hand side, fully lit and decorated - even with fake presents sat beneath the bottom branches.  
Bruce paused for a moment to take it all in before his usual annoyed scowl returned. He’d have to ignore it for now, he had too much work he needed to do – he’d deal with it later.   
When he sat down at the computer, however, he did attempt to turn off the music that continued to play in loop, but the media system appeared to have been hacked and to reroute it would take a him quite a while.   
He frowned at the screen in annoyance. He’d have to try and ignored that too apparently.  
So, Bruce tried to make do with the situation and work around the decorations. It wasn’t too difficult, the smell was comforting, the tree was relatively out of the way and the music was almost relaxing. He only had to flick tinsel off the screen a few times.   
It was a few hours later before he heard the large metal hanger door of the batcave open. He ignored it, too buried in his work, as he attempted to track an escapee’s footprints across Gotham.  
“Jeez Bruce, never realised you loved Christmas this.” Joked Dick Grayson a few moments later as he took in the surroundings, still dressed in his Nightwing costume.  
“Funny.” Was all Bruce said.  
“Honestly. I thought the Joker had broken in.” Dick said, “Is – is that… Christmas music?” He asked, looking at the batcomputer monitor with a raised eyebrow, smirking in disbelief.  
“Someone’s bugged the computer. I don’t have time to fix it right now.” Bruce explained briskly.  
“Sure…” Dick muttered with a grin.  
When Bruce didn’t show any signs of being more social, Dick left him to it, moving off towards the mansion to scavenge some food from Alfred. He stopped in the doorway, “Ya’ know, if you just let them have the lights in the first place it wouldn’t have gone this far.”  
Bruce ignored him, and Dick couldn’t help but grin at the aging man’s back before he darted up the stairs to the house.  
Bruce never bothered to take anything down.


	4. Day 4 - Strictly Business part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this isn't very christmasy, but I had a lot of people asking for the next part so I thought I'd write it as part of the advent calendar i'm doing!  
> Hope you enjoy!

The cold air whipped past my window, I could hear it hollowing against the panes of glass, and I thought - though it was hard to tell through the murky glass and the dark streets - that a snow flurry had begun. I hugged myself tightly. It wasn’t cold in the room, but just the sound of the weather outside made me shiver.  
I had been left in the room now for probably at least 6 hours – though I had no way to tell. My stomach was empty and pulling at me sharp and painfully, and I was bored out of my mind. I had explored my room a bit, but found very little of interest – the contents of the wardrobes and dressers only entertaining me for the short time it took to empty them.   
I had managed to fall asleep for a few hours, but something unknown had awoken me, and now I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the grimy window, unable to sleep thanks to my protesting stomach.  
I had even tried knocking at the door in the hope of getting an answer, but received nothing back. I don’t think the joker had even bothered to post guards on the other side of the door – there wasn’t like there was anyway I get out of this room.  
It was definitely snowing, I thought to myself as I watched something white float past the window, then another, and another, the white smudges dancing and twirling around each other, catching the light just enough to let me see them before they dashed back into the darkness. First snow of the year. That was nice. And where was I? Trapped in a dressed-up warehouse cell, I thought bitterly to myself. The view would have been much nicer from the top floor of the office block, at my desk with a cup of coffee and a bagel or pastry.  
The idea of food made my stomach pang again and I tried to block the idea from my mind. “So much for being a bloody guest,” I grumbled to myself, “doesn’t even bother to offer any food service.” Maybe I was going to go loopy in this room. Maybe that was his plan.  
And so, I continued to watch the window, focusing on the gradual layer of white that built up on the ledge outside, wishing I could open the window somehow and touch it. I settled instead on placing my hand against the cold glass, imaging what it would feel like and leaning my forehead against the window pane as I tried to think about anything other than being stuck in this room, or how hungry I was.   
I sighed loudly, my breath hitting the cold glass and spreading outwards, obscuring a large circle with fog. I moved my hand, now placing in directly in the centre of the fog, then removing it, smiling childishly at the hand print left behind.  
I exhaled another large rush of air and began to doodle randomly. Some were just simple swirls or shapes, but soon joking with myself by writing help backwards even though I knew no one could see it. I felt like an idiot, taking such fun from such a trivial thing, but at least it was taking my mind off everything else.

I don’t know how long I had banged around in that room when I eventually heard someone. I practically jumped out of my skin when I finally heard the sound of footsteps - not having heard anything for over 8 hours. I had been lying on my bed, praying that I could take a nap to let the time pass quicker and must have dozed off because I now shot bolt upright, slightly disorientated and gripping the covers and sheets under me tightly. It flooded back quickly enough though, but my heart remained in my throat, pounding wildly as listened with strained ears to the footsteps in the corridor outside.  
The sound was at my door now. Then the noise of metal on metal. The lock clicking. Then the door opened.  
The man in the doorway was unknown to me, and he barely acknowledged my presence, simply stepping one foot into the room, saying, “This is yours.” And then throwing a small, but heavy satchel at me that thunked on the floor by my feet ominously.  
Then, in the short time it took me to glance down at the bag and back up to the guy to ask him what it was and what he meant – having never seen the bag in my life – he was gone. The door snapping sharply shut behind him and there was the distinct sound of the door mechanism locking behind him once more.  
Alone. Again. Great.  
I peered into the bag only to find it full of wads of money, each held together tightly with an elastic band. I threw the bag to the foot of my bed in disgust. Fat lot that would do me, I thought bitterly. Not that I would keep it - I could guess where that money came from – the heist I had ‘helped with’ – but even if it wasn’t, this was the Joker we were talking about. All his money way stolen.  
It didn’t matter anyway. I had no need for it whilst I was locked in here.   
He could give me all the money in the world – right now all I wanted was something to eat.

Eventually food was delivered to me, though it wasn’t until after a long painful night of hunger. Now it was a regular thing. Though I remained locked in my room, I had access to water from my ensuite bathroom and food delivered morning, midday and evening by large burly men that unlocked the door, handed me and tray and disappear, the door being locked after them.  
I never tried to sneak out or attempt to get pas them, there was no point – they alone could probably deal with me judging by the amount of muscle on them. I soon began instead to offer them the previous trays in return as otherwise they never bothered to collect them and I would have ended up with a large pile of crumbs slowly decaying away.

So, I was fine. I was surviving. And I wasn’t tortured. But I was trapped and felt like a prisoner, despite the luxurious accommodation. What I couldn’t comprehend was why the Joker hadn’t spoken to me in over a week now, and I was confused why he bothered to keep me alive at all, let alone keep me here like this.  
After wondering this every day, I was then very surprised when the door sounded out of the usual hours of my meal deliveries. I had been lounging on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, entertaining myself with daydreams, when the knock sounded, and my gaze now immediately snapped to the door. I didn’t move, watching the door warily, but the knocking only became louder and more persistent.  
Eventually I opened the door, revealing the Joker stood looking rather unimpressed at the delay, in the doorway. I raised an eyebrow, in question, equally unimpressed with his sudden appearance after all this time. “What?” I asked shortly. I was getting use to treating this room like my own, with no one else around, and took my recent apparent safety for granted.  
“Is that a way to greet your host, doll?” Ask J in mock outrage, though I could hear the warning in his words. I rolled my eyes at him nonetheless.  
“Do come in.” I said, overly politely, opening the door wider to him and flourishing my hand in a mocking gesture.  
“As witty as ever, doll.” He observed dryly, striding past me into the room. For a brief moment I looked out the door and into the empty concrete hallway beyond. He hadn’t ensured the door was closed after him, and now I had a view of my freedom before me. But was I fast enough to outpace the Joker? And what were the chances of getting out of this warehouse, or managing to hide, before I was intercepted by one of the henchmen that I knew must patrol around.  
“I wouldn’t, doll.” Came the Joker’s voice behind me, easily reading my thoughts. I knew he was right and I begrudgingly let the door fall shut, turning, instead, to face my captor instead.  
“In that case, I’ll ask again. what do you want?” I demanded, annoyed that once again I was still stuck here against my will. Not that It was a bad room, no. Now I was being fed I was even slightly content, but I hated the idea I was stuck here – plus I was bored out of my mind.  
“So hostile.” Tutted J, looking offended. “I’m just here to give you some entertainment.” He grinned with a knowing smile, holding out his hands to either side, palms towards me in a welcoming gesture.  
I eyed him suspiciously. “No thanks.” I muttered.  
“Aw, come on, doll.” J persisted. “You don’t even know what it is yet.”  
“If it’s you, then no thank you.”  
“Whilst that is tempting, kitten.” The Joker teased with a sinful grin and glint in his eye, “I’m afraid not.” Stuck in his hand into his smart jacket – the action making me flinch, immediately jumping to the idea of him drawing a gun and finishing me – grinned at my reaction, and instead pulled out a folded piece of paper. He seemed to consider the document for a moment, before passing it over to me.   
I hesitated slightly before taking it from him. “What is this?” I asked without opening it, only looking at the blank folded side.  
“A present.” J said simply.  
“Why?”  
“Because its Christmas, doll. That’s what people do.” He said slowly like he thought I was slow in the mind. I raised an eyebrow at him and he let out one of his haunting laughs. “Well, close enough!” He amended. “Come on, doll, just accept it and get on with it.” He told me impatiently, waving his hand at the paper in my grip. “A thank you wouldn’t go amiss either.”  
I wasn’t about to go thanking him until I knew what I was holding, so I opened up the piece of paper to find several sheets, all full of details and plans for another heist. I frowned at the documents in confusion.  
“I’m still waiting, kitten….” J whined.  
“I don’t understand…” I said, confused.  
“Has all this time away from the office numbed you’re mind?” He demanded, irritated by my slow uptake. “They’re the documents for the next heist” He explained, jabbing his hand at them “ – seeing as you seem to enjoy the last one so much.”  
I continued to frown down at the documents, yes, I had enjoyed the planning of the last heist – problem solving all the little kinks and flaws - but I couldn’t do another one. I had aided in a robbery – and a pretty lucrative one at that judging by the amount of money that had been in that bag delivered to me!  
That bag now sat at the bottom of my wardrobe. I had tried to return it, attempting numerous times to give it over to the men that brought me food, but they just completely ignored it. So, in the end, I had moved it out of sight to the wardrobe. I didn’t want anything to do with it and keeping it out of sight helped to keep it off my mind.  
“I can’t.” I said finally, handing it back to him. But the Joker didn’t reach for it.  
“Sorry, doll, no returns.” He sneered and made towards the door. “Keep it. Maybe you’ll change your mind whilst your stuck in here with nothing else to do.” He teased with an evil grin. I scowled at him.  
He was halfway out the door now, “Oh, by the way doll, if you don’t help, you’ll probably just be contributing to a whole lot more death.” He pointed out with a manipulating smile, before slamming the door closed and I heard the lock go.  
I let out a cry of frustration, throwing the paper, though it hardly got far before it fluttered limply to the floor.   
I was trapped again.  
And he was right. If I helped I was aiding a crime, but I would also be able to edit it enough to minimise the amount of damage was done – property and people wise.   
I sighed heavily as I looked over at the papers now sprawled on the floor, tossing back and form on what to do till my mind ran itself round in circle and I threw myself face down on the bed, screaming my frustrations into the pillows.

I did.  
I gave in.  
I was felt quite ashamed by my choice, but in the end, I couldn’t help it. Or maybe I could. But either way, I didn’t. I had sat on my bed for ages, the boredom - and knowledge that I didn’t have to be bored - was like torture. The lure of the papers and my curiosity for the plans eventually overpowered me however, and soon my brain was listing excuses as to why it was ok to help.  
And so I did it.  
I sat at the armoire, rubbing out and pencilling in my edits as the snow flurried past my window. The plan this time was for the hijacking and stealing of a lorry of chemicals. I wondered what the Joker was up to, but soon decided that I’d rather not know – it made helping easier.  
When I had done all I could do – and reread it at least 5 times – I knew I now needed to get the plans back to the Joker. So I waited, until my meal arrived that evening, and – as the large henchman handed over the food I in turn handed over the papers.  
The man looked at it, but refused to take it, instead he gave a single nod and then closed the door in my face. I scowled in annoyance at the door. Why couldn’t he just take it from me?  
I spent the rest of the evening alone until I thought about finally trying to get some sleep, when I heard a familiar loud and persistent knock at the door. This time I didn’t hesitate and opened the door to the Joker on the other side, the papers already in my hand. I handed it out to him, but he ignored it as well, pushing his way into the room.  
“Evening, doll, I see you’ve been busy.” He grinned triumphantly as he turned back to face me, his eyes on the paper. I hadn’t even bothered to consider making a bid for freedom this time, automatically shutting the door behind him.  
“Yes.” I answered. “Now just take it and leave me alone – or better yet – let me go.” I said, thrusting the paper at him. He didn’t grab, instead he grabbed me, his large pale hands easily wrapping all the way around my wrist and stopping me in my tracks.  
“Why thank you, doll.” He said, plucking the paper from my fingers, but not releasing his grip on me. He tugged at my wrist and I was forced to step closer to him to keep my balance. “As for letting you go, doll, no can do – you’re quite a lucrative investment.”  
I scowled darkly at him. “I am a person. Not a money-making scheme.” I snarled.  
“Oh, I know, doll…” He sneered, “Which is why I have a little proposal for you…” I watched him suspiciously, I hadn’t been this close to him since the kiss and I could feel his breath on my face, the distinct smell of whisky and man. I could feel my body becoming aware of his and my temperature rose a few degrees.  
“I am not sleeping with you.” I said firmly, though my voice didn’t sound as strong as I wanted it to.  
The Joker grinned wickedly, “Ah, princess, that wasn’t what I had in mind, though I wouldn’t say it hadn’t crossed it…” He said, his eyes roaming my body sinfully. I should have felt disgusted, but I just felt every inch of her body burn under his gaze and I desperately tried to resist the urge to squirm under his scrutiny.  
“What then?” I snarled.  
He ‘Oooo’ed silently at me snapping at him before his face went neutral. “I want you to work for me, doll.” He stated simply.  
I felt my eyes widen in shock. I hadn’t been expecting that. “I-I can’t.” I stuttered in surprise.  
“And why not?” He enquired politely, his invisible eyebrows raised in question.  
“Well…” I sought for my reasoning, but found my brain wasn’t quite working, “Because you’re a criminal! And I’m – I’m not…” I finished lamely.  
He laughed at my pathetic attempt of justification. “Doll, you don’t have to be a criminal to work for me – besides you’re practically doing good.” He said slyly – “think of all the people you’re saving by helping me – and you’re not even losing me any money, so I don’t care.” He shrugged nonchalantly.  
I desperately searched my mind. I couldn’t have this job, I knew that, but he was speaking sense - I was kind of helping people by working for the criminal, in a mixed up twisted way. There had to be a comeback to that, but my mind was mush.  
“I – I already have a job!” I pointed out.  
“I’ll pay you more.” J said, simply.  
I sighed, “It’s not for the money – that is my own company, it’s worth more than any amount of money.”  
“Last time I checked, doll, it was your husband’s business – at least that’s what everyone been saying.” He said slyly, knowing that would make me react, but I’m not sure he realised how much of a stab in my chest that was. Something snapped in me at that and, taking J completely by surprise, I violently wrenched my hand free from his grip and stormed out of the room to the only other place I had access to - The bathroom.  
I slammed the door behind me and sat with my back against the door – as it had no lock – and felt the boiling rage quickly subside into a hot flood of tears and I was soon sobbing into my hands.  
It had been a fear of mine that when the merger between my company and Mathew’s had taken place I would lose my company to the man, but the contract had seemed so clear - that though the companies had merged, there was still two distinct sides – his and mine. The two companies still existed separately but we took the same losses and gains together – a close knit team like I thought our marriage was supposed to be. But I also thought our marriage would mean that much to Mathew, that he would value me more as a person than a business partner – and that he would notice – and care – about my feelings towards my company, the struggles to build it and make it thrive, and exactly the reason why I hadn’t wanted a complete merger of the two businesses.  
Clearly not if he was now actively encouraging people to believe it was all his company. Especially people who still seemed to be believe that women were no more than pretty trinkets on a man’s sleeve.  
Eventually the tears subsided, though I still felt raw and my temper didn’t feel far from the surface. I wasn’t just mad at Mathew now – though he was the person I was most fuming at – but I was mad at the whole of society for thinking they could do this to me and get away with it. They had known me before I was Mathews wife, they knew me to be the powerful business woman I had been before the rings and ‘I dos’, they knew, as well as Mathew did, what that company meant to me, yet they’d happily call it his the minute we were an item. Like I was suddenly inconsequential.  
I clenched my hands into fists, gritting my teeth together. I wished they were in this room with me right now, I would like to punch their smug, painted faces. I growled at myself, trying to find another outlet for the rage.  
I hadn’t heard J move on the other side of the door for a while and I wondered if he’d left - yet I wasn’t sure I had heard the bedroom door go either – but I might have drowned it out under all of my sobbing.  
I got to my feet, catching a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror, grimacing in disgust and splashing water on my face in a poor attempt to make myself slightly more presentable before I went back out.  
When I stepped out of the bathroom, I found J staring out my window at the snow that seemed to constantly fall at the moment.  
“Not much of a view, is it doll?” He observed, his eyes not leaving the grimy glass. I didn’t say anything in return, stood awkwardly and still sniffling slightly, whilst J was on the other side of the large bed to me. We stood silently together for a moment, me watching him, whilst he kept his eyes on the window.  
“I’ll pay you double.” J said eventually, repeating the offer from earlier.  
“No.” I said, walking over to the wardrobe and pulling out the bag of money. I moved back to my original position and threw it on the bed between us. “You’ll that that back” I negotiated, “and I’ll take the money you’re making off those people from my ‘kidnapping’.”  
His eyes snapped to money when it landed on the bed, but they moved to my face. His face was deadly serious and seemed to be surveying my face, running through my demands. He moved slowly and deliberately around the bed until he stood in front of me. “Deal.” He said with a wide grin, holding out a hand for me to shake.  
I eyed his pale, muscular hand warily, my eyes lingering on the ink painting his skin. My eyes flicked up to his icy blue ones. “Strictly Business?” I asked firmly, think back to the kiss and his teasing, let alone the eyes that were now piercing mine.  
“Strictly business.” Agreed the Joker with a sinister grin. But I trusted him. And I gripped his hand.


	5. Day 5 - Joker x Reader - Christmas Hatred Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so late, and not the best! I've literally just managed to finish it the second before I went to bed and I've only managed to quickly read over so there's probably loads wrong with it and I had no idea what I was doing as I wrote it so I apologise!  
> Hope you like it anyway!

[Y/N] hated Christmas. All her friends knew that. Though they weren’t sure why – it seemed a delicate subject for her – but they knew better than to invite her to any Christmas events – or even really try to talk to her around the festive season. It wasn’t hard to do this – she basically vanished off the face of the earth for the month of December, only found by those who really wanted to find her – which was no one really. So, she spent the month hiding in her flat all day, and working her way around the bars all night. Her way to get through the holidays was to drink her way through it.  
No one thought it was a healthy coping mechanism, but it seemed to work for the girl. Anyone else might have worried she was an alcoholic, but the rest of the year she showed no signs of any addiction behaviour. She just hated Christmas too much to want to remember it. So, her friends stopped worrying her, bidding her goodbye for the month and - come the 1st of December - she began her rounds of Gotham City’s nightlife, distinctly avoiding any Christmas parties, or pubs that were too decorated.  
It was on the 18th night that she met J.  
It was in a dark club around the early hours of the morning when he decided to dance with her. By this point [Y/N] had lost herself completely to the alcohol in her system and any worries of dancing with strangers – even ones with such pale skin that he seemed to glow in the darkness – didn’t concern her. The fact that he was hot did.  
The night had been a blur, but that was what she wanted. No memories. Every December was a blank to her.  
She woke up in her bed alone with a slightly aching head and very little memory of the night before. She remembered a guy – but had no idea who – and only the messy bed next to showed her what had happened last night. Brilliant. She just hoped they’d used protection.  
She got dressed and took a healthy dose of paracetamol, washing it down with a strong cup of coffee, before she proceeded to do what she did every day: mope around the house, recovering from her hangover ready for tonight. She was just lucky her kitchen was stocked because she couldn’t bear to face the packed streets of Christmas shoppers and charities begging for money.  
It was mid afternoon when there was a knock at her door. She had to pause a moment to wonder if she had misheard it – had it come from the TV? No. Maybe it was next door. But then the knock sounded again and this time she heard the door rattle under the attack. She frowned. No one called on her this time of year – she had no family nearby – certainly none that wanted to see her – and her friends knew better than to visit her this time of year.  
Maybe it was a charity caller or a someone trying to sell her something. She tried to ignore it, lying back down in her previous position, blanket over her body, head on her makeshift pillow of several of the sofa’s cushions.  
The door kept knocking, more angrily, more persistently. “Jesus.” [Y/N] muttered, shoving herself to her feet. She’d just have to tell them – in no uncertain terms - to leave her alone. She removed the security chain and wrench the door open. “I don-“ She caught herself mid-sentence when she saw who was on her doorstep.  
The man from last night. Except now he wasn’t a stranger. In the cold light of day, it was only too clear who he was, and she cursed herself violently in her mind for not recognising him last night – surely the hair, the skin, the grin, his generally weird behaviour – something should have triggered her memory even in her intoxicated state.  
So why then had she spent the night dancing – and then sleeping – with the Joker!  
She could feel herself freeze instantly, her eyes unable to blink.   
There was an insane murderer at her door.  
“Afternoon, doll…” He greeted with a wide grin, “Ready?”  
It took a moment for her brain to process this to allow her to answer. “For what?” She asked, her voice quiet and slightly croaky.  
“Don’t tell me you forgot our little deal, kitten…” He purred dangerously and [Y/N] panicked – what the hell had she agreed to las night?  
The blank look on her face told the Joker everything he needed to know and he grinned widely with glee, releasing his haunting laugh. “You don’t, do ya, doll?” He grinned, “This is going to be even more fun than I thought.” He chuckled to himself.  
[Y/N] gathered what courage she could find, her mind flying all other the place in an attempt to grab any memory of the night before. “What are you talking about?!” She demanded angrily, not liking this situation one bit.  
Though she may have sounded confident, she couldn’t help but flinch when the Joker immediately stopped laughing, turning his eyes back on her, his face now completely serious. “Why, our little date, doll…” He sneered. “We did agree to it last night after all – you’ve even shook on it.” He added with an evil smile and she knew there was no way out of this. She couldn’t say she hadn’t agreed on – because she honestly couldn’t remember, and she didn’t think it was wise to pick an argument with this man. [Y/N] settled for not saying anything.  
When the Joker could see he had clearly won, he grinned triumphantly, “Shall we go…?”  
“Where are we going…?” [Y/N] asked, cautiously.  
He grinned again, “Oooh, nowhere in particular, doll…” He drawled, though she had a feeling he had a place in mind.  
She frowned at him. “And if I refused?” She tried.  
He raised an invisible eyebrow at her daring. “Well doll, first you’d be going back on your word…” He growled lowly, “And then I’d be forced to be a slightly more… unpleasant…” She noticed his hand had slipped beneath his purple jacket, extracting the gun hidden in a holster beneath, which he now pulled out, bringing it up to his face, admiring it.  
Her eyes didn’t leave the gun and she felt herself holding her breath, not daring to move, frozen once more.   
“Now, doll…” The Joker purred, eyeing his gun as he twirled it around casually like it was a deadly weapon. “Do I need to be unpleasant?” He asked in a sickly-sweet voice, his stony eyes flicking from his gun, and then back to hers again.  
[Y/N] hesitated, but eventually shook her head carefully, “No.” she said, though it came out as more of a whisper.  
“Wonderful…” He purred in a gravely voice, though he didn’t put the gun away, instead using it to gesture down the hallway. She hesitated again, but only briefly, soon accepting there was nothing else she could do and heading down the hallway only realising when she was outside, and the cold air was whipping through her baggy top, that she wasn’t exactly dressed to go out – still in her old comfy trackies and oversized jumper.  
She didn’t say anything though – worried that the Joker would just think it was an excuse to escape and get annoyed – she had a feeling he wasn’t a patient man and she valued her life.  
Instead, [Y/N] just got in the car that was waiting for them outside her building without a fight and the Joker slid in next to her, storing the gun once more in the holster that hung over his shirt. Clearly, he felt he no longer needed it. And he was right, just the knowledge that he had it was enough to stop [Y/N] trying anything.  
They were driven by a silent, well-built and suited man, into towards the city centre and [Y/N] wondered what was in store for her. The car eventually pulled up on random street on the outskirts of the city centre, down a quiet street lined with empty officers without any pedestrians.  
The Joker got out straight away, muttering to the driver who had got out with him. [Y/N] noticed the criminal begrudgingly swapping his rather ostentatious coat for a discrete, unremarkable coat that matched those worn by every male wandering the icy streets. He then, moodily, shoved a dark hat onto his head as well, pulling it low, and the coat collar high, obscuring his vibrant hair and most of his face. If you just walked past him now, you wouldn’t bother to take a second look.  
[Y/N] guessed they would be spending a lot of time out in public then. Her stomach clenched. That was the thing she had been trying to avoid all month - especially at this time of day.  
Just then, her car door was pulled open by the driver and he held it open, clearly waiting for [Y/N] to get out. Her palms were sweaty, and heart fast with the fear of the unknown laying before her.  
The Joker was waiting for her in his disguise on the pavement. “Come on then, doll.” He said gruffly, clearly still not pleased with his new outfit, and he grabbed her roughly by the arm, tugging her along with him towards the centre of the city.  
He didn’t release her the whole time they walked, but his grip loosened slightly to the extent that she could have pulled away if she wanted to, but she thought that would probably just irritate him – which she didn’t want – and for some reason she didn’t mind his hand on her.  
Eventually they neared the main hum of Christmas activity and she couldn’t help but recoil slightly at everything around her, the lights, the mass of people buzzing around the streets and the sound of Christmas music on the air.  
“Where are we going?” [Y/N] tried to ask again, but either the Joker didn’t hear her over the noise around them, or he just chose to ignore her. He didn’t look happy either way. Someone shoved into him and she felt him stiffen next to her, probably fighting the urge to pull his gun on them.  
Finally, they had clearly reached the destination the Joker had intended as he pulled [Y/N] to a stop next to him. They were in the centre of a main square, people channelling past behind them, but they were close enough to the fountain that stood in the middle square, that they were generally out of the main line of traffic. “Alright, doll,” The Joker finally said, turning to face her. “Now it’s your turn. What do you want to do?”  
“Other than go home?” [Y/N] sassed, immediately regretting it once it was out of her mouth.  
But the Joker just grinned at her. She rolled her eyes, clearly, she couldn’t get out of this, “Uhhh…” She scanned the scene around them, desperately searching for something that wasn’t covered in tinsel or tacky decorations.  
“Oh.” The Joker suddenly said, “One thing” he held up one finger “- as you’ve probably forgotten…” He grinned slyly, “This is a Christmas date, kitten…” [Y/N] felt my heart drop. He was kidding right? Why would she have agreed to a Christmas date?  
“I can’t have possibly agreed to that!” She exclaimed in surprise, forgetting herself again.  
The Joker grinned widely at her reaction, “Oh, but you did, doll. You protested at first, I’ll give you that – though you couldn’t come up with a good excuse in your state…” He said, a knowing glint in his eye that she could just make out in the shadow of his hat. “But you came around eventually…” He purred and she felt like he was hinting to something that had happened, but she honestly couldn’t remember anything.  
[Y/N] frowned at him - now even less happy with the circumstances. She glanced around them again, “Urgh,” she groaned, “I don’t know.” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air, “It all looks tacky and annoying!”  
The Joker let out a laugh and she thought several people glance at them – knowing that characteristic sound. [Y/N] kept her head down, but the Joker didn’t seem to care. “Come on then, doll, I’ll choose.” He linked her arm this time, looking more natural and like the other couples walking around them, though she could still feel the strength against arm, easily able to restrain her if she tried to escape.

He towed her towards the Christmas market now, joining the train of people that wandered up and down the stall. Some of the stalls were painfully tacky and she flinched when sticky children ran up and down past her, demanding toys from their weary parents. [Y/N] tried to remain disinterested, but she couldn’t deny that some of the handmade scarves were catching her eye, and the smell of fresh pastries and cakes weren’t unappealing either. Sometimes, to fit through the crowd they were made to crush close together, each time making her feel extremely awkward as she was able to feel every inch of the Joker’s physique against her body and she couldn’t help the reaction of her body to the contact. She could feel the heat in her cheeks that wasn’t wholly from the space heaters above them. The Joker remained quiet throughout though, not seeming to notice anything, and barely looking at the different stalls, though [Y/N] occasionally saw him watching her out of the corner of her eye, so she tried to keep her attention anywhere but on him.  
What she couldn’t stop thinking about though, was why the Joker – the crime lord and murdering psychopath – was wandering arm in arm with her down a Christmas market. It seemed weird and completely out of character.  
She couldn’t help it anymore and she pulled him down between two stalls where there was a wide enough gap, into the relative quietness of an alley that ran away from the main street. The Joker was clearly happy to be pulled away, otherwise there is no way she would have been able to manage it.  
People continued to walk past the entrance to the alley way, but they didn’t pay them any attention. He stared down at her, waiting for an explanation as to being pulled aside. [Y/N] wasn’t going to beat around the bush, she wanted to know exactly what was going on. “Why are you here?” She demanded bluntly.  
“I thought I had explained that, doll…” He growled, not pleased with her questioning, but she wasn’t perturbed by this.  
“Hardly.” She snapped. “You clearly hate Christmas – and this – “ She gestured back the way they’d come at the Christmas market,” as much as I do! So why” She demanded, “are you here?!” She saw his jaw clench at her impertinence, but then it relaxed again once he’d reined in his temper.  
“Because, kitten… You’re entertaining.” He shrugged.  
“I’m entertaining?” She repeated in disbelief.  
“You should see you’re face when you’re annoyed, doll.” He teased with a quiet laugh.  
[Y/N] scowled at him and he just laughed harder, making her suddenly realise what she was doing, and so tried desperately to keep her face blank, but failed completely when he continued to chuckle at her attempt.  
Then [Y/N] had an idea.  
“Ok, fairs fair.” she stated. “If you get to annoy me, I get to annoy you.” She bargained, and the Joker stopped laughing, his face now serious as he waited for her to explain. “Whatever I have to do, you have to do and vice versa.”   
His eyes darkened with annoyance at her suggestion. “It’s only fair.” [Y/N] pointed out, hoping that would help her case. “I won’t fight this, if you agree to.” She added to sweeten the deal.  
He considered this theatrically, tilting his head to one side in thought, rubbing at his chin like it was a hard decision, before he finally extended a hand to her. “Deal.” He said, and she took his hand which was surprisingly warm against her icy hand considering the cold night air they were in. He gripped her hand tightly and then, suddenly, jerked her forward, planting his lips on hers. [Y/N] automatically felt herself kiss him back before her brain caught up with what was happening, and she sharply pulled back, wrenching her hand from his grip at the same time.  
“What was that?!” She demanded.  
He grinned sinfully, no trace of regret on his face. “Whatever I do, you have to do.” He said simply with a shrug. She scowled at him, but he just laughed so she folded her arms against the cold and huffed loudly, walking away back into the crowd of the market.


	6. Day 6 - The Rogue Club - The Great Christmas Trap Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this was originally a different idea I had, but I couldn’t see where it was going, so I’ve blended it into another idea I had - so yay for idea, but boo because now i have yet another day free for me to come up with another idea - an idea I am struggling to come up with (suggestions are welcome with opened, un-judging arms!)
> 
> Again, I’ve rushed this one a bit, so I apologise if its not great - its very hard for me to produce a piece of writing in the day when I used to at least having a week, and not really having any deadlines, so writing and editing one piece in a day is quite a challenge for me and I’m beginning to regret it! haha
> 
> Hope you enjoy anyway!

The old abandoned building – known to most rogue’s as ‘the club’ – was relatively calm that evening. There had been a small spat an hour ago between Mr Freeze and the Scarecrow other some odd chemistry argument that no one else understood or wanted to get involved in, but that had sorted itself once Mr Freeze had stormed out, leaving a deliberate chill in his wake.  
The club had now settled in a calm atmosphere with a low rumble chatter as the crime lords, their henchmen, and a few lesser criminals, now entertained themselves with gambling, pool or drinking.  
This peace however, was momentarily broken when the main door flew open dramatically. Everyone instinctively snapped their gaze to the door, hands on hidden weapons, ready should the police or bat have discovered their hangout. They immediately relaxed however, when they saw only Harley Quinn bouncing happily into the room.  
“Merry Christmas everyone!” She cried with glee to those nearby and was met with a series of ‘Hi Harley’ and ‘Uh huh’.  
Jervis Tetch, who was sat at one of the table’s nearest to her, placed his hand of cards down on the table and tipped his extravagant top hat to her, “Evening, my dear. How are you on this fine winters night?” He inquired politely with a charming smile.  
“Just peachy, thanks Tetchy!” She grinned back and he nodded happily before returning to his game with the Ventriloquist, Killer croc and a couple of henchmen that Harley didn’t recognise. She smiled to the whole table anyway, all of them returning the smile, though not as enthusiastically.  
Content with the response anyway, Harley moved her attention back to the rest of the room, scanning the tables, and smiling at any eyes she met, and finally settling on what she was looking for on the opposite side of the room.  
Harley didn’t hesitate, immediately skipping across the room to the table and throwing her arms around the clown’s neck, causing him to pitch forward in his seat and his opponents look up in surprise.  
“Hiya puddin’.” Harley squealed in his ear, making the Joker wince and growl in irritation, not looking at all impressed with her sudden appearance. “Hiya, boys!” She chirped at the other men at the table. The Penguin offered her a polite “Evening.” in return, Two-face grumbled something and Victor Zsasz simply nodding, all still looking slightly stunned by her sudden apparition.  
The Joker seemed to painfully swallow his annoyance at the interruption, keeping his gaze on the cards in his hand, not even trying to detach Harley from around his neck – knowing she’d just end up clinging even tighter to the point of choking him.  
“Harls… Pumpkin...” The Joker simpered sweetly. “What do you want?”  
Harley ignored his attitude completely “Do ya have the babies?” She asked.  
“They’re in the back.” The Joker muttered, his focus clearly more on the game in front of him as he reached for a card from the deck.  
“Why?!” Cried Harley unhappily.  
“They kept biting people.”  
“Aww, they’re probably hungry…” Harley cooed, looking to the back door adoringly as if she could seem them. She planted a kiss on J’s cheek – much to his displeasure – and then she scampered off excitedly to her precious hyenas, leaving J to his game who grumbled something indistinct under his breath.

The brief period of calm without Harley didn’t last long as she was soon racing back into the room, this time followed by two hyenas loping along behind her. She grabbed a recently vacated chair from a nearby table, dragging it none too subtly across the room, and threw it down next at the Joker’s poker table. She straddled it the wrong way round and crossed her arms on the back of the chair, resting her chin on her forearms as she watched the game, her hyenas pacing around her until they eventually settled around the chair, watching the rest of the room, silently daring anyone to come near them.  
The Joker might have been able to put up with her spectating, but he knew her silence wouldn’t last long. And, sure enough, he was right. She only watched one hand of the game before she chimed in, “So, what’s everyone up ta’ for Christmas?” She asked, pushing herself up right and leaning back, keeping herself from falling backwards with her grip on the back of the chair.  
Everyone glanced up at the Joker to see his reaction, as if expecting him to do something about ‘his girl’. But J just rolled his eyes in annoyance whilst Harley continued to glance from face to face, waiting for someone to answer. Penguin eventually cleared his throat, “Well,” He said importantly, puffing up his chest, “Some of us have businesses that still require our undivided attention. This time of year is generally the busiest season for my lounge.” He informed the table pompously. The rest of the men rolled their eyes at this statement – all knowing that if it his business needed that much attention by him he wouldn’t be here right now playing cards with them.  
Harley wrinkled her nose at the idea of responsibility, but nodded politely none the less.  
“Harv?” She asked, turning to the half-scarred face.  
Two-face glared at her for using his old name, but he answered none the less with a sullen shrug, “I’ll let the coin decide.” Harley nodded seriously like she completely understood this reasoning.  
“Zsaszy?” The man shrugged silently.  
The table knew their obligation now - as much as they didn’t really want to fulfil it. Penguin took it upon himself to be the gentleman, clearing his throat whilst the Joker continued to stare moodily at his cards. “And you, my dear?” Penguin asked politely.  
Harley beamed at the question. “Well, J’s not a fan of the whole Christmas thing,” She told them, nodding at the pale moody man, his mouth never having been further from a grin, “So I thought I’d visit Red for a while. Problem is she has this aversion to Christmas trees...” And so Harley continued to chatter on about Ivy’s problems with Christmas, soon moving onto anything and everything when she got lost on a chain of thought.  
The men at the table pretended to listen for so long, but eventually took a page of the Joker’s book and completely ignored her, returning their full attention to their game. This didn’t seem to faze Harley in the slightest and she continued on.  
By the time the men finished their games, Harley had found herself a seat on the floor, having turned her attention to her babies and was now absently stroking Bud’s head where it rested on her lap, whilst Lou sat close to her back, his eyes keeping a hungry watch on the rest of the room, guarding her unnecessarily.

The criminals at the poker table pushed their chairs back to leave and both hyenas jumped to their feet at the commotion.  
“Good game, boys!” The Joker grinned, “Maybe bring some more money next time.” He teased, clearly in better spirits now as he gathered up his pile of winnings.  
“I don’t know how you do it clown,” Growled Two-Face across the table, he teeth clenched, “But I know you cheat. And when I find out I’ll wipe that pretty little smile off your smug face.” He snarled.  
All the Joker did with this threat was grin even more widely. “Aww… you really think it’s pretty?” He asked, posing like a young girl and batting his eyelids at Two-face.  
“There is unquestionably something irregular in your earnings at this table.” Muttered Penguin, eyeing J suspiciously.  
“What can I say Ossy, I’ve got luck on my side.” Penguin bristled at the nickname, whilst the Joker grabbed his winnings and turned to leave.  
“You’re not all going now, are ya?” Asked Harley suddenly, jumping to her feet. The hyenas bouncing around at her feet. All the men looked warily over at her, having almost forgotten she was still here. They all nodded or shrugged in answer, looking at each in silent question as to what they were supposed to say. The Joker did nothing, seeming to make the point of ignoring her, though she didn’t take any notice of this.  
“Hang on!” Harley cried and pranced over to the small stage at the back of the room where a live Jazz band played low background music. The band stopped abruptly when Harley vaulted up onto the stage with them. “Sorry guys - thanks Travy.” She said as the one of the members made way for next to the microphone.  
“Hiya! Wahoo!” Harley called out to the room, trying to grab everyone attention, tapping on the microphone so the thudding rang out through the speakers – even though it wasn’t completely necessary as everyone was already watching her, intrigued what she was up to.  
“As we all know,” She called out into the room excitedly, “Its Christmas!” She paused then, clearly hoping response like some cheers or whooping, but all she got was stony silence as they waited for her to get to the point. “Well… I – uh – I had an idea - well its more of a repeat! I feel like Christmas is a time to do something together, so why not us?!” Numerous people exchanged unconvinced glances of mutters between one another.  
“What did you have in mind, my dear?” Called Jervis from the back of the room.  
Harley grinned at Jervis, though the spotlight on her made it hard to see to the back of the room. “Glad ya asked Tetchy!” She exclaimed, “I’m thinking…” She built up, “Secret Santa!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms wide in a ‘Tah Dah’ kind of gesture.  
Unhappy muttering broke out around the room. “I know it didn’t work out great last year -!” She quickly pointed out over the mumbling  
“Work out well?” Came a voice, “It was a disaster!” There were murmured agreements.  
“It was chaos!” Someone else called.  
“- But I really think we should give it another shot!” Harley persisted over the din of the room.  
Despite her continued encouragement for the idea, Harley was only too aware of all the negativity still being expressed around the club and she realised her plan wouldn’t work at this rate. She needed to pull out the big guns. Her bottom lip began to wobble, tears starting pooling in her eyes and she began to sniff, ensuring she was close enough to the microphone to get the sounds heard through the speakers.  
Everyone slowly quietened down, all watching the insane young women breakdown into tears on the stage. Most of the room was made up of large burly henchmen, or cruel crime lords – none of them with any skills of comforting a crying woman – so they all stood or sat awkwardly, unsure what they were supposed to do now.  
Some people mumbled about trying to find Ivy – she would surely know what to do – but no one was sure where she was – someone else would have to do something.  
Everyone looked among themselves pointing out candidates who quickly refused, all the while Harley maintained her tearful charade. Only the Joker knew her charade well enough to know it was fake – not that’d he’d care if the girl was crying for real either though – but it was fun to watch the other men squirm around him, unfamiliar with the water works scheme.

Eventually the Riddler stood up from his seat in the centre of the room. “My dear Harleen,” He began formally, “This isn’t much of a mind game - I’m sure we’d all like to see this idea work…” He muttered, not completely enthusiastically, glancing around at the room where no one else seemed to be particularly enthused either. “But we have tried your idea before – and no one really embraced the idea correctly… And some people…” all eyes turned to the Joker where he now lounged against a pillar, watching the show, “…thought to even try to sabotage one another with the gifts.”  
J saw all the accusing glares and he raised both hands in defence, giving an innocent shrug, “Eddy boy… I told you I meant to pick up the non-exploding jack in the box – I didn’t mean to bring the whole building down!” He defended, though no one believed him - and they were probably right not to – and instead, they turned their attention back to Harley who continued to sniffle on the stage, looking rather depressed that her idea had been turned down.

Everyone felt a bit sorry her – they didn’t hate Harley like they did her clown boyfriend – she could just be a bit of an irritance. Harley sulked her way off the stage, thoroughly disappointed – she had hoped to bring some Christmas cheer to the miserable criminals, usually forced to hide away in slums like this to avoid the flying rodent.  
She did wonder what Batman was up to at this time of year – did he celebrate Christmas? Did he even have a life outside of locking her and her friends up? He couldn’t possibly have any family – except maybe that little bird boy of his.  
She almost felt bad for the guy.

Wait. That was it.  
Harley dashed back, frightening Trav and his band once more where they have slowly made their way back onto the stage, now scattering when they Harley rushing back towards them. The rest of the room had returned to their previous activities – either playing their last game or beginning to head off.  
“Wait!” She cried out, the sound ringing painfully loud through the room and everyone flinched, some people instinctively ducking. “I have another idea!” Called Harley excitedly, ignoring the rather annoyed looks she was getting. A few people, like Two-face, rolled their eyes at her in exasperation and continued on with what they had been doing, but still a large proportion of the room waited for her to explain.  
“We give good ol’ batsy a little Christmas present!” She squealed with glee at her own idea. The crowd frowned up her in confusion.  
“What are you on about woman?” Growled Two-face, unimpressed.

“Well I was just thinking - what does batsy do at Christmas?” She posed to them, “We all wouldn’t want him to be all lonesome this time of year.” She cooed with an evil look in her eye.  
There were murmurs around the room at this.  
“What are you suggesting?” Someone called.  
“Oh, I’ve got a lot of ideas…”


	7. Day 6 - Ed Nygma x Reader - Opposites Attract Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late - my wifi was down yesterday!  
> This is the next part to another series I am writing - so sorry if you struggle to read this as a one off!
> 
> Hope you enjoy anyway!

“[Y/N]?!” She jumped when someone called her name across the relatively empty café as she cleaned one of the tables near the front wall of windows. “[Y/N] [L/N]?!” She looked over at whoever it was yelling.  
Kristen Kringle. An old friend I hadn’t seen since high school. She almost couldn’t believe it.  
“Kristen?” [Y/N] asked in disbelief. They may have attended the same high school all the years ago, but that school had been hundreds of miles away in a completely state altogether – what was the chances that the two of them would find ourselves in the exact same state, city and café.  
Kristen grinned wildly over at her as [Y/N] straightened up from her work, still probably a picture of shock. She left her cleaning supplies at the table and walked quickly up to Kristen, both of them embracing each other in a tight hug.   
“Wow, it’s really good to see you [Y/N]! What are the chances?!” Kristen exclaimed.  
“Yeah… I know - it’s so weird.” [Y/N] said, awkwardly.  
There was a moment of silence between them as Kristen politely smiled at [Y/N] with her usual golden girl look and [Y/N] glanced around the café, conscious that she was technically supposed to be available for any customer that needed her – though at the moment there were only 3 other small groups of people, all happily served and sat chatting away with their mugs and cake.   
“So, what are you up to then?” Asked Kristen, “You work here?” She asked, clearly intrigued and [Y/N] was glad when she didn’t hear any sort of derision in Kristen’s voice.  
“Well – yeah – I – uh – I own this place.” [Y/N] told her, slightly embarrassed and unable to meet Kristen’s eye, feeling her cheeks warm.  
“Oh my! Really?!” Kristen asked, looking around the place now, properly drinking it all in. “That’s amazing! And really impressive!” She cheered. “I’d heard about this place from around the precinct – all good things –“ She emphasised, “But I never thought I’d find you here!”  
Something in [Y/N] had frozen at the mention of the Police Department down the road. “You – uh – work at the Police Department?” She asked, anxiously, looking Kristen up and down. No uniform. Kristen had never struck her as the ‘cop’ type anyway.  
“Erhm hmm.” Kristen agreed. “I’m the Records Keeper over there.” She told [Y/N] distractedly, not noticing any of the sudden concern that had leaked into [Y/N]’s voice, her mind clearly elsewhere. “Do you still make those cookies you use to?” Kristen asked randomly.  
[Y/N] frowned, confused, then realised what Kristen was talking about. “The white chocolate and blueberry ones?” Kristen nodded, “Oh yeah, ‘course I do.” [Y/N] grinned back as though nothing was wrong, and her mind wasn’t panicking about a tall lanky man working alongside her old friend.  
“Oooo.” Kristen grinned in joy, her eyes shooting over to the counter on the far side of the room, searching for them.  
[Y/N] couldn’t help but smirk – Kristen had always had a sweet tooth. “Come on.” [Y/N] said, “I’ll give you one on the house.” she teased, Kristen grinning back gleefully and they made our way over to the display cabinet.   
10 minutes later they were both sat at a table – close to the counter should [Y/N] need to jump up and serve a customer – sipping on hot chocolate and Kristen polishing off a large cookie.  
“So, what are your plans for Christmas?” Kristen asked.  
[Y/N] shrugged, she hadn’t really come up with much – she hadn’t had time, and any family she had lived miles away with [Y/N] having no money to visit them anyway. “Oh, I don’t really have any.” [Y/N] admitted. “Money’s a bit tight and family is miles away, so I can’t afford to travel home.” She told Kristen. “Thought I’d just have a quiet one alone. Besides, I’ve gotta keep this place open – that’ll entertain me.” [Y/N] said, saying the idea as it came into her head - to be honest it wasn’t a bad idea. [Y/N] didn’t dislike working, and there was bound to be people around that might want a warm cosy café after being out even on Christmas day. Even if there wasn’t, it was better than being stuck in her house alone.  
Kristen’s face was one of pity. “You can’t be alone on Christmas!” She cried in outrage and [Y/N] was slightly taken a back at her passion, hiding her face by staring down into her mug. “You should come round mine!” Kristen suddenly proposed.  
[Y/N]’s head shot up. “Oh no, I couldn’t impose on you!” She said quickly.  
“Don’t be silly,” Kristen tutted, “I certainly wouldn’t mind, and I highly doubt Ed would either.”  
[Y/N] felt her muscles tense. “Ed?”  
“Oh, yes, I haven’t mentioned him yet. He’s my boyfriend – well I say boyfriend – we haven’t really officially said it yet – we haven’t been going out long.” Kristen admitted.  
[Y/N] was numb. “Did you meet him at work?” She asked, her voice croaky.  
Kristen nodded, “Yeah, he’s in forensics. He’s a bit odd, but he’s also so very sweet.”  
“How long have you two been together?”  
“Oh, only a few weeks.”  
A few weeks ago Ed had murdered someone.   
[Y/N] was really panicking now.  
“[Y/N], you alright?” Kristen asked concerned, reaching for [Y/N]’s hand to snap her out of her head. [Y/N] instinctively pulled back and Kristen looked a bit hurt.  
“Sorry.” [Y/N] muttered, replacing her hand on the table. “Just lost in fairy land.” She joked half-heartedly.   
“Ok…” Kristen said, though she didn’t look entirely convinced, raising one eyebrow In suspicion, but going along with it anyway. “So…” Kristen searched for something to say, “Yeah, you’re more than welcome to come round. Ed’s a brilliant cook!” She added.  
“Oh – well – I – Uh, don’t want to be a third wheel...” [Y/N] was trying to think quickly about this. The last thing she wanted to do was spend more time with the murderer, but she couldn’t now knowingly let Kristen be alone with him either.  
“Don’t be silly – there’s plenty of time for us to be a couple any other time of the year – Christmas is for friends and family – and your both!” Kristen pointed out. [Y/N] couldn’t help but blush and smile sheepishly. It was sweet she still thought of her like that.  
“Thanks Kristen.” [Y/N] murmured. Kristen had always been there for her. [Y/N] was going to have to put her own fears aside and save Kristen from this mad man.  
“Oh, that’s my coffee break over!” Kristen said, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got to go, but it was lovely to see you again.” She said, “I’ll stop by at the end of the week for a better catch up! And you have to come for Christmas.” She added, with fake sternness.  
[Y/N] teasingly rolled her eyes. “Yes, mum.” She joked back and watched as Kristen gave a little wave and left, heading backdown the street towards the Police Department. 

A few weeks later, Christmas day had arrived and [Y/N] hadn’t spent a second not thinking about what to do on the day.   
Kristen had come round to the café several times after her first visit to try to confirm [Y/N] for the day, but the closer to Christmas it got, the busier the café became, and the more run off her feet [Y/N] was with the holiday shoppers seeking shelter from the chilly wind and rain.  
But now it was Christmas day and [Y/N] was invited for 11am that morning.  
She had spent the night lying awake, tossing and turning over whether to go or not.  
She should. It was risking her life, but Kristen was constantly risking her life at the moment. [Y/N] didn’t want to tell her. From what She could gather from Kristen’s constant gushing that she seemed to like Ed a lot and [Y/N] didn’t really want to be the one to break her heart by telling her about him. So [Y/N] was going to have to talk to Ed instead. Tell him he had to leave her alone.  
[Y/N] did have to wonder how he was taking the idea of her coming round for the day.  
Either way, she was just going to have to grit my teeth and do it. For Kristen.

Yet when it hit 9am, Kristen rang her. She had an emergency GCPD meeting to help on a case that had suddenly blown open and couldn’t wait for her to take her day of holiday.  
Ed however wasn’t needed apparently – due to no new forensic information being found – and that he would still be happy to keep [Y/N] company for the day.  
Sure, he would, [Y/N] thought sarcastically.  
But she knew right then that she wouldn’t go. There was no way [Y/N] was volunteering to spend the day with that murderer.  
So she spent the day at home – having already planned for the café to be closed anyway – and relaxed around the house, snacking and watching movies all day.  
Seemed like a good day to her.  
But all day [Y/N] still had that bloody man on her mind. And what he could do to Kristen.  
Several times [Y/N] had to bury her head in cushions and moan in annoyance. She just couldn’t sit here and do nothing. She had to speak to the man. Tell him to leave Kristen alone. [Y/N] couldn’t tell Kristen – she probably wouldn’t believe her anyway, just like everyone else at the police station.  
[Y/N] had to go see him. She wouldn’t stay, but she had to speak to him.  
So [Y/N] finally changed out of her pyjamas and headed to the address Kristen had given her.

Ed was pacing. Ever since Kristen had told him that she had bumped into her old friend called [Y/N], Ed had been constantly stressed that she would find out about the night outside her front door – or even just that Officer Dougherty had not left town, but had in fact been disposed of in a black leather case.  
He’d managed to keep himself away from the café and Miss [L/N] since the evening he had spoken to her, been smacked with a baking tray, and nearly stabbed her. He thought it was for the best to keep his distance, despite the voice in the back of his head constantly disagreeing with this and insisting on dealing with the problem in a very permanent way.  
Ed would quickly try to shut these thoughts out.  
But then Kristen had invited [Y/N] around for Christmas and Ed couldn’t say anything but yes. His normal sane mind screamed no, but in the moment of shock his other voice had taken over and agreed quickly. It wanted an opportunity to see her. Any opportunity to see her, was an opportunity to remove her – no matter the risk of witnesses.  
If [Y/N] was gone, Ed could be able to relax, all other evidence gone.  
And then Christmas day had arrived, but Kristen had cancelled - having been called into the police station after the Kim Jackson case had been reopened – but insisted that Ed carry on with his day as usual and should still have [Y/N] round.  
That had been perfect. At least the voice in the back of his mind had.  
But Miss [L/N] hadn’t shown at 11am.  
Not that he could blame her. She had made her position on seeing him very clear last time they had met, and she didn’t even know what he could easily have done in the back of the café that night. How the knife had been in his hand. How it would only have taken a few more moments before he brought the weapon down on her.  
No, he could not blame her for not wanting to be alone with him. He was surprised she had agreed to come even when Kristen was going to be here.  
But maybe she wanted to tell Kristen. Maybe she just hadn’t got round to it yet. From what Ed could gather they were very close – before and still now – so the chances were that [Y/N] did want to tell her. Which just made [Y/N] all the more problematic.  
Ed tried to enjoy his Christmas, looking forward to the 4 hours and 33 minutes until Kristen walked back through the door, but his mind was still on [Y/N].  
She’s alone right now at her home. There would be no witnesses. Completely vulnerable. It would be so easy. Why not deal with the problem right now?  
Ed must have drunk too much wine, reducing some of the normal control on his body, or simply become so lost in his thoughts that he’s become buried in his own mind, allowing the space for the other side of him to take over, because he suddenly found himself with his coat on walking down the street towards [Y/N]’s house.

[Y/N] knocked on the Ed’s door. No answer. She waited a bit longer and tried again. Nothing.  
She swallowed her nerves “Ed?” She called, her voice faltering slightly. “ED?!” [Y/N] called even louder through the industrial-looking door. Nothing. No sound of movement or anything. Was he home? This was the address Kristen had given her.  
She frowned, unsure what to do now.  
Eventually she headed home, defeated, but at least having the slight comfort that she had tried.  
She would spend Christmas alone.

Ed rang the doorbell at Miss [L/N]’s house. It hadn’t been hard to find the address, he had simply checked Kristen’s address book.  
There was no answer.  
He knocked at the door instead.  
Still no answer.  
Just break in. “No.” Ed growled at himself. He couldn’t believe he was even here. He should just turn around and go home.  
He tried to peer through the ground window, through the lacy curtain that blocked the general wandered from seeing into the house. He could detect no movement and none of the lights were on.  
He tried the door one more time, but still no answer.  
This was a sign. He should leave, despite the voice telling him to hang around for her. There was a difference between paying her a visit, and lurking around her doorway. Anyway, people might see him and if he hung around too long it would look suspicious.  
So, he headed back to his flat to wait for Miss Kringle to return.  
He would spend Christmas alone.


	8. Day 8 - IMAGINE - Zsasz decorates Frozen Ed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t have much time today - and I wasn’t 100% sure how to write this one as an actual fan fic yet - so I’ll just leave you with a very short imagine! :)

Imagine Zsasz getting bored around Christmas at the Iceberg lounge and deciding to decorate a frozen Ed Nygma center piece with lights and tinsel.

Oswald will not be impressed.


	9. Day 9 - JxR - Christmas Carol Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, finished this with 2 minutes until midnight! Sorry it's so late! It's a bit rush so I apologise if it isn't great! Im tired!  
> Hope you enjoy anyway!

When J awoke the room was still completely dark, yet the clock by his bed read 23:07. It couldn’t be 11pm - it had been 2am when J had left his office for his room.  
It wouldn’t have been the first time that J had slept a whole day away, but the date on the clock still read 24/12. Maybe his head was still clouded with the alcohol.  
He pushed himself to his feet, not feeling particularly rested, and made his way to the large windows that made up one of the walls of his bedroom. He ripped the heavy curtains away, the night outside still clearly pitch black despite the frost on the glass, blurred lights of the nearby buildings the only thing he could obviously see.  
The Joker was wide awake now and stalked out into the rest of the empty penthouse, heading into his office where he firmly closed the door behind him and poured a large drink, the odd hallucination from earlier that evening still haunting his chaotic mind.  
He sipped his drink moodily, sat at his desk staring blankly at the solid black door in front of him, only the small dim lamp producing any light in the room. Every time he thought of Marlo he kept thinking how something had been off about him. There were certain things he did that none of his hallucinations ever did. They rarely ever spoke back, never really listened to him like Marlo had, and certainly didn’t sit next to him for a chat. But it could only be a hallucination, nothing else – maybe Frost had just brought him the good stuff this time and so his hallucinations were, in turn, stronger than usual.  
The Joker remained lost in his mind for the next hour, vaguely hearing the chiming of an antique clock that sat on the mantle piece of the unused fireplace in his study. It hit 12 and the dull chimes echoed through the empty rooms.   
Suddenly a large light – similar to that of a flood light - illuminated the room making J shield his eyes. He had to wonder if the police had finally got lucky and found him out, thinking the light to be that of a search light of a GCPD helicopter – if they had any of those left after J’s latest stunts.  
J spun to look at the window behind his desk, but the light was too bright to see anything, forcing him to shield his eyes. Just as soon as it had come, the light was gone, and the room was plunged into darkness – even the small desk lamp having somehow gone out.  
J turned back to face the rest of the room again, finding himself blind thanks to the sudden darkness, and unable to make anything out through the glass. He glanced across at where he knew the lamp was on his desk. Was it purely coincidental that the bulb had gone out, or was this someone’s idea of trying to intimidate him?  
He let out a echoing laugh into the darkness at the very idea and took another sip of his drink as the lamp flickered back on next to him. Must be a lose bulb instead then. He’d have to remember to yell at Frost in the morning. No. Frost had tomorrow off now. He clenched his jaw in annoyance at the thought.  
But then something distracted J. A figure stood in the shadows of the room, too far back to for the small lamp on the desk to reach his figure.  
“Can I help you?” The Joker asked dryly, not at all impressed by the disruption, his hand reaching into the drawer of his desk and retrieving the pistol store there.   
“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.” It said in familiar voice.  
The Joker let out a loud, empty cackle, absent of any humour. “How the hell did you get up here, Eddie?” The man stepped into the light, dressed in his usual bright green suit, white shirt and dark tie, a matching bowler hat on his head and his hands gloved in purple, holding his usual golden staff, the end twisted into its characteristic question mark.  
The Riddler said nothing in response to the question.  
“You’d better have a good reason for disturbing me…” Joker growled in annoyance at Ed’s disrespect.  
“I am here to help you.” He said simply, though his voice sounded more hollow than usual and he didn’t appear to be his usual cocky and flamboyant self.  
“I would have thought it would have been more helpful if you let me have my drink and return to bed.” The Joker pointed out contemptuously.  
“Your reclamation, then.”  
“Smaller words Eddie…” Joker drawled, bored of the late-night visitor and wishing he’d take him and his riddles out of here. “Why couldn’t this wait till tomorrow?” Joker asked in annoyance, tilting his head back and leaning it against the back of the chair. He was feeling tired for the first time in a long time. All these hallucinations were taking it out of him.  
Suddenly his chair was spun violently around, halting sharply so he faced the window again. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, he was yanked out of his chair by something pulling around his waist and landed nimbly on his feet despite the few drinks he’d had.  
A glance down at his torso confirmed he’d been pulled by the Riddler’s staff, somehow unwrapping out of it’s usual solid shape to curl around his waist. The gun was still in his hand he now aimed it directly at Nigma’s chest.   
“Huge mistake Eddie.” He snarled with a wide, sinister grin, not even bothering to wonder how Eddie had moved that fast, or how his cane how somehow been modified. The staff was unhooked from around the Jokers waist and returned to it’s usual size and shape in the Riddler’s hand.  
“Come with me.” Was all the Riddler said, curling his fingers on his outstretched hand, his eyes not even bothering to look at the gun now pointing at him, as though he hadn’t even seen it.  
“I don’t believe you’re in any position to tell me what to do, my wordy little friend.” Grinned the Joker madly, still aiming the gun – and people said he was crazy.  
The Riddler ignored this too though, grabbing J’s arm that was outstretched with the gun, and dragging him towards the window. The Joker was slightly taken aback by the man handling, but barely hesitated before firing the gun at the exact point that he was pulled through the penthouse window.

\----------------------------------------  
When J’s eyes focused again he was stood in what appeared to be an old pub. It was completely impossible. Must be another hallucination and J growled something to himself. He’d never known them to be so vivid as to create a how new scene around him as well as a person – as he was now certain the man next to him could possibly be real. The Riddler stood next to him, completely unharmed and as uncaring at J’s presence as before, despite the fact that the Joker was certain he had shot him. Even now the man’s eyes weren’t on him, but straight ahead of where they stood.  
The Joker was about to demand what was supposedly going on in this hallucination as he followed the fake Riddler’s gaze, but he was silenced by what he saw.   
It was him. An old him – in the way that he was in fact younger. And his skin was normal. His hair wasn’t green. And he was wearing a dark, rather tatty and worn suit with a rather crinkled shirt underneath which was done up to the highest button.  
Joker knew this moment from his past. But why was it playing out around him now? ‘The Ghost of Christmas Past.’ Was he dreaming rather than hallucinating? But he’d had never thought of this moment since he’d been dunked in those chemicals all those years ago.  
There was one way to differentiate between hallucinations and dreams. J reached into trouser pocket and pulled out a pen knife, flicking it open and, without hesitation, slicing into his left palm. The wound oozed blood sluggishly, quickly clotting. The Joker let out a loud cackling laugh at the sheer ridiculousness and impossibility of the situation.  
“Alright Ghosty!” The Joker went, going along with the whatever his mind wanted him to see. “Whatta we here for?” He grinned.  
The Riddler pointed at the front door as it opened to reveal two men. They walked casually into the bar like it was their regular place – which it was – grabbing a drink from the bar before they wandered over to where the younger J sat.  
“Jacobs and Gamphrey….” Drawled the Joker, reaching out a hand to grab Gamphrey’s arm, but the hallucination walked straight through him, both men continuing on none the wiser, and taking a seat next to the other J and playfully elbowing him in the side. You couldn’t see it on his face – even back then he was good at putting on a mask – but the Joker knew he had been anxious that night. It had been Christmas eve. The night before the big heist. J’s first real heist that he had planned himself. It had taken a long time to get to that point thanks to lack of funds for it or anyone willing to take him seriously about the idea, but he had managed to cobble enough resources together with the help of the men now sat with him.  
The Joker almost felt sorry for those men that had come to his office earlier that evening suggesting a series of blueprints for heists over the holidays. He had been in a similar position once.  
“What is it, Joker?” Came the Riddler’s voice next to him as though he could read his mind. The Joker growled at him, clenching his jaw and not saying anything. Instead, he watched the naïve joking faces of the three friends. Jacobs and Gamphrey wouldn’t see the next morning.  
“I always liked those guys…” The Joker mused, feeling himself soften slightly at the memories, but the creepy grin spreading on his face hid any emotions he had at the memory.  
The Riddler nodded his head, a far off look on his face. “You will always find me in the past, I can be created in the present, but the future can never taint me.”  
J shot Eddie an annoyed glance, but quickly returned his eyes to scene before him, only to find it had changed. The two men were gone, and the young J now looked slightly older, his hair neatly brushed and his suit replaced with a nicer one. He downed a glass of something as the Joker watched, then gestured for the bar tender for another, far more confident in himself now than he had been a moment ago.  
The J in the memory was making eyes at a few of the women at the bar and they were flicking their hair behind their ears encouragingly. He gave them a smile - completely different to the one he frequently wore now – more cocky and arrogant.  
Suddenly a man stood directly in the young J’s line of sight. “Odd way to spend ya Christmas, boy.” The Joker heard the man say in a familiar voice. The Joker looked at the man carefully, but only when he turned to take the seat next to his younger self, did he recognise a younger Marlo.  
Marlo gestured to the barman as well, and, without a word in the way of an order, a bottle of strong port was delivered to the table.   
“Ah, Wiese and Krohn…” Grinned the Joker happily to himself. “The man always liked his shitty port.” He told the Riddler, not caring what he said to them – after all, he was only a hallucination. They watched as Marlo poured two glasses and the young J sipped at it, making a face at the taste and Marlo laughing at his expression.  
“He always told me I’d grow to like it.” J said, “Never did.” He admitted. “That was the night he asked me to join his little group. Said he saw potential in me!” The joker giggled manically. “I was too big for my britches though, turned him down flat! Didn’t think I had anything to learn! Until I lost everyman I had!” J laughed chaotically, closing his eyes and shaking with mirth at the memory of his failure and stupidity at that age.   
When J opened his eyes again they weren’t in the pub anymore, they were outside a bar in the wintery night, the cold wind whipping through J’s hair, throwing it all over the place and biting at his exposed skin. His imagination was really working on overdrive tonight. He had to wonder if someone had spiked his drink.  
“You know this place?” Asked the ghostly Riddler.  
“Oh course…” Grinned J, picking up on the familiar décor. The place burnt down years ago thanks to a hit from a rival gang, but J would have known the place anywhere. It was Marlo’s original place of business. J had spent a large proportion of his life in this club.  
It had been before the chemical bath that had warped his features and his life. Before he had changed.   
He had tried to work alone for a long time - tried to set his own gang - but could never accomplish much more than a few small heists and petty crimes. Then one heist had gone horribly wrong and he’d lost all his men and had been unceremoniously kicked off his high horse.  
After that he had sought out Marlo again to take him up on the offer from all those years ago. Marlo hadn’t let him in without a good bit of humiliation for J – which probably had done him good – but soon after became one of Marlo’s henchman, eventually working his way up to his right-hand man.  
This club had been his home. He walked in without thinking about it.  
The scene before him was one of the Christmas Eve before J had been plunged into the acid. The club was loud with the music of the era and the laughing and shouting of the dancers as the strobe lights flashed throughout the club. The Joker saw the memory of himself stood at the back of the club, tall and intimidating, next a booth where Marlo lounged with his usual glass of port, surveying the scene before him, a beautiful girl nestled under his left arm. Marlo’s girl. Marlo’s wife.  
Her name had been Georgia and the two of them now cushioned up together had been inseparable and a team. She’d never looked that tough, but J had only underestimated her once before he had never done so again. She had been a force to be reckoned with and reminded him distinctly of [Y/N].  
Back then J had liked one night stands just as much as the next guy, but he wanted to be like Marlo, and that meant having a girl like Marlo had.  
It only took a dunk in some acid and a fried brain to get rid of that idea. No one would want him looking the way he did. But he hadn’t care anyway.  
Until [Y/N]. She liked him before and she liked him afterwards. Well, up to a point.  
Speaking of the girl, she now wandered up in the hallucination towards the booth. The Joker watched her movements across the club, unable to stop his eyes raking over her body, knowing each detail intimately and to the smallest degree, but still drinking them in anyway. She hadn’t really changed from all those years ago, unlike him. She still held the same beauty and grace, walking with a sense of power and knowledge, always like she was one step ahead of you.   
The Joker watched her glance across at the younger J who stood on guard by the booth with an emotionless mask over his face. Her gaze lingered on him in interest and a small smile turned her lips before she slid into the booth next to Marlo, kissing him and his wife on the cheek. Greeting her parents with a Merry Christmas before ordering a drink  
J remembered how hard it was to keep his mind on his job that night, and his eyes.   
After a short while, [Y/N] whispered something in her father’s ear, he glanced an expression of question down at her, but then nodded, straightening. “Lads!” Marlo called, and the surrounding henchmen gathered in front of the booth’s table, awaiting their orders. “My daughter has so kindly reminded me it is Christmas,” He told them, gesturing at the young girl by his side, “and so, she has persuaded me to give all of you the night off.” He exclaimed, and a ripple of murmurs broke out amongst the men. “You may do what you please, but under the condition that I insist you stay on the premises in case of a sudden requirement for you.” Marlo added.  
The men nodded eagerly, not believing their luck. Marlo’s club was hard enough to get into on a normal night, let alone the Christmas Eve party – this was a night not to be missed, none of them wanted to leave anyway and they had soon disappeared into the crowd to enjoy their night.   
Marlo was always generous to them, often at the cost to his own power or money, and J almost regretted how he treated Frost sometimes.  
The Joker could have watched his younger self throughout that night, but he already knew what he did the whole night with his smitten heart. He had kept stealing glances at [Y/N]. He sometimes thought she had met his eye too, but she had never left her father’s side that night.   
As the Joker he watched [Y/N] in the booth, the lights in the club faded out and he was stood in the cold night air once more.   
“What are you doing?!” The Joker snarled at him angrily, because somehow, he knew all these changing scenes were the Riddler’s fault. When the Riddler didn’t answer, the Joker clenched his teeth and looked around, realising with a small shot of alarm, that they were stood the roof of a skyscraper. When he looked back round he suddenly saw Harley Quinn stood in front of him looking battered, beaten and exhausted.  
“No, puddin…” She whimpered, “Please…!” Her cheeks were wet with tears and her makeup smeared. She reached out and ended up falling to her knees. J looked down at her in confusion until he heard a hard, cold laugh behind him and spun to see himself - now an exact duplicate of his current self, except maybe ever so slightly younger – pointing a gun at the sobbing psychiatrist.  
J knew this memory. This was the night he had finally rid himself of Harley. He had meant to kill her. Seemed the perfect place, could even push her off the edge and make it look like she’d done her usual acrobatics and just fallen – not that he cared if people knew it was him or not.  
“You never did get the joke did you, doll?” Asked J cruelly as he pointed the gun at Harley’s bowed head. He removed all but one bullet from the revolver. “Let’s play one last game. That’ll decide the winner.” He purred, clicking the safety off. He aimed the gun again and pressed on the trigger.  
Yet the Joker heard nothing. He turned back to see Harley but she wasn’t there. The cold night was gone as well, instead he saw [Y/N], the pain in her eyes so similar to those of Harley only a moment ago. They weren’t on the roof anymore, they were in his office.   
The Joker turned around to see himself again, but he was no longer pointing a gun, he was sat at his desk, bored and unbothered about the distraught women before him, his face down and studying a pile of documents instead.  
“Goodbye J.” He heard [Y/N] whisper.  
This wasn’t his memory. It couldn’t be. J had never heard [Y/N] say it. He’d blocked her out by that point, drowning her voice with the false ones in his head, sick of the truth she was spitting at him, killing his punchline over and over.   
Suddenly the scene seemed to rewind.  
“I’m going to leave J.” [Y/N] declared, her voice wobbling with emotion. “I know you don’t want me anymore, so I’m doing you the favour and leaving.”  
“When have I ever said anything like that, doll?” He demanded with a growl.  
“Never.” [Y/N] admitted, “But I can see it in you and everything you do. You think I’m holding you back.” She told him, “And maybe you’re right.”  
“Doll…” The Joker protested tiredly.  
“Tell me that - f you were single now and you saw me - you would want me. Try to win me.”  
The Joker watched himself stupidly hesitate, opening his mouth slightly.  
“You wouldn’t, J! You wouldn’t because you’ve changed – you’re not the same man!  
“I’m not that boy anymore you mean.” He growled back at her, his eyes dark and dangerous.  
“No, I meant what I said!” [Y/N] snapped back at him. “You’ve replaced me with your want for power and I can’t do this anymore. You’re not funny anymore.”  
“Life isn’t funny,” J spat back across the desk. “Life is about power over others, doll! Understanding and mastering the corruption that rules everyone’s pathetic lives! There is always someone higher up! Someone at the root of it all! And that is someone I aim to be!” He declared heatedly, banging his fist angrily on the desk.  
[Y/N] didn’t flinch at the action, keeping herself steady despite J’s temper. “That right there, is my father talking.” She pointed out angrily. “Now I know you loved him – don’t lie to me J.” She snapped when he went to protest. “But I don’t want you to be him, and I know you don’t want to be him either.”   
That was the point J had blocked her voice, letting her rattle on whilst he focused all his thoughts on the job details in front of him, bowing his head and getting to work.  
But now. Through this hallucination or dream or whatever it was, her was hearing her words. Hearing her tell him that was her late father’s ideas. That J didn’t want that. That J had never cared about power. He cared about having the last laugh. Cared about the chaos and giving people the truth even if it involved slaughter and torture. Showing people that life was just one big joke. That there was no way you could avoid the punchline.   
He was hearing her now. Hearing her tears. Hearing her goodbye.  
And then he was watching her leave through the door again, whilst he sat at his desk doing nothing.  
Joker watched the door shut on her figure, his jaw clenched tight. “That’s enough.” He growled back to the ghost slightly behind him.  
“I am the beginning of the end, as well as the end of time and space. I am essential to creation and I surround every place. What am I?”  
“I DON’T CARE!” J spun on him. But he was gone. It was an empty office and the clock to the side of him continued to chime 12.  
How could it still be 12 after all of that.  
J didn’t know if his drink was spiked or not, but she still poured himself another one and collapsed exhausted into this chair, rubbing tiredly at his pale face as he downed the glass.


	10. Day 10 - Christmas at the Sirens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones a bit random - not really a story with a plot as such - more a series of scenes from a Christmas Eve with the sirens. It's not the best, and I think they're a bit out of character, but I hope its alright - I think all this constant writing is starting to get to me haha  
> Hope you enjoy anyway

“Remind me again, why we’re baking gingerbread – whilst Harls, who actually wants these bloody things - is nowhere in sight?” Demanded Selina, angrily flicking dough off her fingers.  
“Because last time I agreed to let her do it, she almost burnt the house down.” Muttered Pamela, tossing yet another bowl into the sink.  
“Why didn’t we just use pre-made dough?” Selina groaned, spooning up a mixture which was still far too runny.   
“Harl would know.” Ivy sighed in exasperation. “Trust me, we wouldn’t hear the end of it.”  
Just then the girl in question rushed into the room carrying a very disgruntled cat. “Selina. Can I dress Isis?!” She asked excitedly.  
“No!” Explained Selina  
“Aww, come on…! It’s so cute!” She squealed, holding up the offending outfit which appeared to be a reindeer costume.  
“You are not dressing my cat in a reindeer costume Harley!” Selina hissed firmly.  
Harley’s face dropped. “Red…” She tried.  
“Drop it Harls.” Ivy said. “Why not dress up Bud or Lou?”  
Harley let Isis down, not noticing she was seconds from being bitten. The black cat was quick to make the most of its freedom, turning tail and running from the room, probably aiming to hide under Selina’s bed. Harley reached for a small pot of marshmallows on the side. “I tried!” She protested, popping a small handful of the marshmallows into her mouth. “But they’re a bit too excitable and they ended up ripping the outfits to pieces.” She explained, pouting sadly. “I had to just settle on the tinsel collars!”   
The two other women exchanged glances with each other as they continued to roll out the cookie dough and cut out little men shapes. Harley continued to pick at the little marshmallows, favouring the pink ones, as she stared absently out the window into the grey Gotham afternoon.  
“’ow much longer till the gingerbread is ready?” Harley asked through a mouthful.  
“Stop eating all the marshmallows, Harl!” Ivy demanded as Harley shovelled another handful towards her mouth. “The cookies need baking, then you can do whatever the hell you want with them!”   
Harley clapped her hands, jumping on the stop excitedly. “Ooo yay!” She beamed. Then stopped suddenly, something outside catching her eye. “Look guys, it’s snowing!” She exclaimed. “Can we go out in it?!”  
The two others glanced out the window, “It’s only just started.” Selina muttered, “There’s no point in going out.”  
Harley’s face fell again, but soon her smile was back. “But when it settles we go out, right?!” She demanded eagerly.  
Ivy sighed heavily, not bothering to look up from her work of cutting out the gingerbread shapes. “Sure, Harls.” She muttered, her tone completely uncaring.  
“Yeeee!” Was all she heard, Harley running from the room, clearly having another idea to entertain herself.  
“I hate Christmas…” Selina grumbled next to Pamela as she picked the cookie dough out from under her nails.  
“Uh huh.” Ivy agreed.

“You’re cuter when you’re freezing, Harls.” Ivy teased as the Harley walked through the front door, teeth chattering, and her arms wrapped tightly around her chest.  
“Yeah, well, someone,” Harley shot dagger eyes at Selina who walked in casually behind her, “took the snowball fight a bit too seriously.”  
“You’re just a sore loser.” Selina grumbled, wandering past the frozen girl and heading to her room to change out of her damp clothes.  
“Stamp your feet!” Ivy ordered at Harley as she began to follow. Harley scowled, sulking and stomping her feet in the entrance way, huge clumps of melting snow falling away from her boots.  
Ivy nodded at her that she could stop and Harley moodily trudged into the living room.  
“Can we put a fire on, Red?” Ivy heard Harley call from the living room.  
“No fires!” She called back.  
“But Reeeedddd…!” Harley whined, appearing in the doorway. “I’m gonna freeze to death otherwise!”   
Ivy rolled her eyes at the theatrics. “Fine. But I’m not leaving you alone in that room.” She told her, heading into the room. However, she was brought to a halt by a plant suddenly falling in front of her face. “What on Earth?!”  
She looked at thin, round ended leaves and the small circular pure white berries. Mistletoe. Why was there mistletoe in the house?! “Harley! What is this?” She demanded.  
“It’s mistletoe!” She explained happily.  
“I can see that, but why is it in front of my face.” Ivy asked with a frown.  
“I thought it added to the Christmas decorations.”  
Ivy surveyed the mistletoe carefully, realising it was just a branch. “You cut it?!” She demanded. Harley face dropped, suddenly realising who she was talking to.  
“Uh – only a few bits – I didn’t kill it!” She insisted sheepishly.  
Ivy shot daggers at her. “You’re lucky that mistletoe is so resilient.” She growled. “Poor baby.” She murmured, stroking the leaves of the plant above her before pulling it down, refusing to let it hang like a trophy.

“Is the ginger bread cool yet?” Harley suddenly pipped up from her pile of blankets.  
Ivy looked up from where she was giving a bit of TLC to one of her young potted orchids, she’d moved them into the warmth of the room – making sure they were on the other side of the room to the fire – and they seemed to appreciate the increase in heat. “Probably.” She muttered.  
Harley giggled excitedly and untangled herself from her nest, skipping towards the kitchen. “Selina!” Ivy heard her call, “We’re going to have a frosting contest!” Ivy rolled her eyes at this – she knew Selina’s reaction to that.  
There was low grumbling mutter, which must have been Selina’s unenthusiastic response, and then Harleys loud voice. “Aww come on, kitty, get into the festive spirit!”  
Ivy got up and headed to the kitchen, knowing she’d have to stop a fight before it broke out. Stopping suddenly when yet another piece of mistletoe fell in her face. She clenched her jaw as she pulled down this piece as well and carried on into the kitchen.  
“Don’t call me that.” Snarled Selina where she sat at the kitchen table, Isis curled up on her lap as the catwoman filed her nails.  
Harley looked over to Ivy as she entered, not noticing the plant in her hand. “You wanna join, Red? We’re gonna have a gingerbread frosting competition!”   
Ivy raised any eyebrow at her which should have provided a good enough answer, but Harley’s eyes were large and pleading.  
Ivy sighed dramatically. “Fine. Hand me some of those men and we’ll just see what I do to them.” She said with a sinister seductive smile. Harley beamed at the look of sin on Ivy’s face and raced to get the biscuits.

“Tah dah!” Harley exclaimed a few hours later, stepping back from the gingerbread house they had put together, and the tray of gingerbread men that had been propped up next to it.  
“The gingerbread house is kinda…” Harley began, searching for the best word, pursing her lips as she assessed it.  
“Sad?” Suggested Selina, her arms crossed as she leant - bored and sick of being festive - on one of the kitchen counters bored and tired of being festive.  
Harley frowned at the suggestion. “Not saaaddd,” She protested, “just… Not quite right.”  
“Not quite right, Harls?” Repeated Ivy, “It’s leaning more than Penguin does on his umbrella after he’s had a few too many!” Exclaimed Ivy. “Plus 3 of the gingerbread are bigger than the house, and most of them look like their eyeballs are bleeding!”  
There was a moment of silence as everyone considered the bakes before them, then, suddenly, Selina burst into a fit of laughter behind them. Both of the other girls turned to stare at the crazed woman in bewilderment – she hadn’t done anything but moan all day, now all of a sudden, she was in hysterics – if Harley didn’t know better she would have thought Selina had taken a dose of her puddin’s laughing gas. Ivy raised an eyebrow at her in question. “You alright, hun?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.  
Selina was practically in tears now, doubled over in laughter. “Leaning more than Ossie – that’s a good one!” She managed to choke out between laughs.  
Ivy glanced over at Harley who was beginning to laugh herself. “Did someone spike your eggnog?” Ivy asked, beginning to grin at the scenario herself.  
Soon they were all laughing together at the ridiculousness of the gingerbread, everyone feeling far more relaxed thanks to their failure - the pressure of the holiday and the need to do ‘festive things’ that they hadn’t even realised they had felt, now suddenly lifted off them. The day didn’t need to be perfect - there wasn’t a need of a list of things to do or check off - they just needed to have fun doing whatever they wanted.  
And right now, they wanted to fall into each other with laughter.

Later that night they were all settled with a cup of hot chocolate and a chunk of gingerbread – after deciding that the best and most satisfying thing to do with the cookie house was to smash it. Selina was curled up, stroking Isis who had made himself comfortable on her lap, Ivy was absently stroking a tendril of plant that had wound its way onto her shoulder, and Harley was curled back under her pile of blankets, her eyes resting on the pile of presents that sat under one of Ivy’s Latin named plants – as they hadn’t been allowed a Christmas tree in the house.  
“Can I open a present yet?” Harley suddenly asked out of the blue, breaking the peaceful silence that had fallen over them.  
Ivy looked over to her and followed her gaze to the pile. “No Harl, you wanted to do Christmas, you’ve got to do it properly. You’ve waited this long you can wait another 24 hours.”  
Harley sighed dramatically, still gazing longingly at the corner.  
Ivy got up, finishing her drink, and heading towards the greenhouse to check her plants out there before she headed to bed. Just as she was about to walk out the backdoor, yet another piece of mistletoe fell in front of her face, swinging slightly in the cold air.  
“If I bump into one more bloody piece of mistletoe, Harl’, I’ll burn your bloody presents!” She yelled back into the house behind her. Selina smirked over at Harley as the girl blushed bright red and sheepishly curled deeper her blankets.  
“What a Merry Christmas.” Observed Selina, as Isis purred contently on her lap.


	11. Day 11 - Robin x Reader - Two Lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I've never really written this character before, so I apologise if it's not particularly accurate!  
> i was just going to make this a oneshot, but I think I might write a second part for it as I was running out of time!

“I’ll see you tonight?” Y/N asked from her bundle of blankets on the sofa where they had been watching TV together.  
“Yeah.” Dick Grayson nodded, as he gathered up his things for work.  
“You mean it this time?” Y/N asked, grabbing at his arm as he went to move towards the door, “You’re not going to cancel at the last minute again?”  
“What’s this about, [Y/N]?” Asked Dick, taking her hand from his arm and cupping it in his own hands, perching back on the sofa next to her.  
She hesitated from a moment, suddenly embarrassed by her persistence. “It’s just that, for the last two years we’ve been together, you’ve never been free over Christmas, valentine’s day or my birthday - let alone all the date nights you’ve missed. I mean, I don’t want to be an overbearing girlfriend, but, just for once, I want you around tonight. Please.” She begged at her hands, unable to look him in the eye. She was embarrassed for demanding so much from him.  
Dick watched [Y/N], reading the emotions on her face, despite her attempt to hide. He didn’t know what was worse – the fact that everything she said was true about him never being around was true, or the fact that she thought she was being overbearing. She had put up with so much of his shit over the years. And he felt bad. Felt bad because every day he had missed any date with had bruised his own heart, let alone hers. He knew he let her down. And he knew he’d been warned against relationships from the moment he’d started staring at girls on the street. His future wasn’t made for a normal life, a wife and family. His destiny was different from other peoples, ever since Bruce showed him the Batcave.  
“I promise. We’ll spend this Christmas together.” Dick said, kissing her hand cupped in his. She looked up at him and was blushing which just swelled his own heart. “But right now, I’ve to go. I’ll see you tonight. Promise.” He said again.   
[Y/N] nodded, “Tonight.” She agreed, and they exchanged a short, but passionate kiss behind, and Dick left.

\---------------------------------------------

“I’m sorry again about the change.” Apologised Dick for the tenth time as he pulled his motorbike up outside the imposing Wayne mansion.  
“It’s fine Dick, honestly.” Y/N insisted, “As long as we’re together, I don’t mind where we spend Christmas.”  
Dick gave her a small smile. He had rung her mid-afternoon to tell her that his adopted parent Bruce Wayne had wanted him to visit for Christmas and Dick had insisted [Y/N] accompany him so they could still spend the holiday together – repeatedly promising her that the billionaire really wouldn’t mind her being there.  
The truth was something Dick couldn’t tell her. That Bruce was in fact the masked vigilante Batman, and Dick his sidekick Robin, and that Bruce had not asked him to Christmas, but instead required his services as Robin.  
But Dick wasn’t about to cancel yet another plan with [Y/N]. Not after he promised her that morning. But you couldn’t exactly say no to Bruce either. So, he had to compromise.  
The couple walked up to the large double front door of the mansion, Dick pulling on the archaic pull string doorbell, hearing the heavy antique bell ringing out throughout the house. They waited a few moment before the aged butler answered the door.   
“Ah, Master Dick and – [Y/N]!” He exclaimed, pleasantly surprised.  
“Merry Christmas Alfred!” [Y/N] greeted, “You sound surprised to see me! Did Dick not tell you I was coming as well?”  
“Why not, he didn’t.” Muttered Alfred with an unimpressed look at Dick who was looking rather sheepish next to [Y/N].  
“Sorry.” He muttered, “Guess I forgot…”   
Alfred kept his steely gaze on Dick for a few moments longer, “Never mind,” He eventually dismissed, “If there is anything this house isn’t lacking – it’s space.” He declared and ushered them inside.   
Alfred took them to one of the main drawing rooms where a large fire was already lit in the hearth. The couple settled themselves down in the thick, plushie armchairs that surrounded the fireplace as Alfred made promises of hot chocolate and hurried to the kitchen.  
Dick reached for [Y/N]’s hand, taking it in his own, “I’m so-“  
“If you apologise one my time, I’ll slap you.” [Y/N] told him firmly, but wasn’t able to hold her scowl long before she burst into laughter at his expression. Dick couldn’t help but smile at her innocent laughter.  
He regrettably rose from his chair next to her, letting her hand go, “I’m just going to go try and find Bruce.” He said. [Y/N] nodded in understanding and turned her gaze on the fire as Dick left the room.  
Dick headed to Bruce’s study, but wasn’t surprised to find it empty, immediately turning to the old grandfather clock that stood against the wall opposite the large oak desk. He hit a hidden switch and the clock swung aside, leaving a gaping dark passageway with steps that ran downwards.  
Without hesitation, he headed down the passageway, knowing each step off by heart and descending quickly despite the poor lighting.  
The passage finally opened up into a large cavern with metal platforms at different heights connected my metal steps. On the first platform, directly opposite the stairs, sat a large monitor which Dick now strode up to, immediately switching it on and connecting the communicator on the Batcomputer to that on the Batmobile.  
“Batman?” He called into the screen.  
“Robin.” Came the response and the screen flickered into life showing the profile of batman as he drove through the Gotham night. “Where have you been?” Came the gruff voice.  
“Nice to see you too.” Sassed Dick.  
“I need you to run a search on a name.” Said Bruce, completely ignoring Dick’s attitude.  
“Hit me.”  
Dick dashed back up the stairs and back to the fireplace where [Y/N] now sat with a cup of hot chocolate.   
“You look out of breath.” She observed, slightly surprised, as he entered the room.  
“What? Oh – uh,” He searched his mind quickly for an excuse when he saw her questioning face. “Bruce had me running a few errands, that’s all.”  
“So, he invited you to Christmas as a guest, and now he has you doing his chores for him?” She asked, shocked. Robin shrugged indifferently. The truth was, he had been running up and down the Batcave setting several systems searching for a criminal that Bruce was trying to track down.  
“Why don’t you have a seat for a while, I’m sure Bruce can spare you.”  
Robin looked uncertain, knowing he couldn’t stay too long away from the Batcomputer in case Bruce tried to contact him, or the system got a hit on this criminal, but [Y/N]’s face made him take a seat anyway. [Y/N] smiled happily and handed him a mug of hot chocolate topped with mini marshmallows and whipped cream that Alfred had brought for the couple.  
“So, what exactly is he making you do?”  
“What?” Robin shook himself out of his thoughts that were on the criminal tracker below them.  
“Bruce.” [Y/N] prompted. “What is he making you run around doing?”  
“Uh – um – “ Robin scrambled, “Presents. He’s crap at wrapping them. Use to get Alfred to do them, but his arthritis is acting up.”  
“So why were you out of breath?” She frowned.  
“Uh – dashing up the stairs – needed to move the presents before anyone saw them.”  
“So, are you even wrapping your own?”  
“Uh – yeah – Bruce has never been one for secrets...” Muttered Robin, trying not to smirk at the lie. “I don’t mind…” He shrugged.   
[Y/N] nodded, “So where is Bruce whilst you are running around for him?”  
“Uh – he’s at meeting.”  
“On Christmas eve?” she asked in disbelief, “Then why’d he invite you round?”  
“Uh – it was an emergency meeting – I don’t really know what about, I stopped listening to the old man years ago.” He joked painfully, wishing she’d drop the subject.   
[Y/N] still looked concerned, but she seemed to buy it.  
“You know, I’m just going to go catch up with Alfred.” Said Robin, putting his mug down and pushing himself to his feet. “See how he’s doing with those mince pies – I’m starving!” he added, placing a hand over his stomach.  
[Y/N] smirked, knowing his appetite well, “Ok, sure.” Y/N nodded, watching him as he headed out of the room.  
As soon as Dick was out of [Y/N]’s sight, he raced down the hallway, dashing past Alfred heading towards the drawing room with a plate of mince pies. He skidded to halt. “Alfred!” He cried, skidding to a halt and back tracking to where the butler had paused. “Alfred!” He repeated out of breath, sticking an arm out to keep the butler where he was. “I need you to stay in the kitchen for a bit!”  
Alfred frowned at the young man, “Whatever for, Master Dick?”  
“I told Y/N I was coming to chat with you in the kitchen, but I need to check the analyser!”  
Alfred considered the situation for a moment before relenting. “Very well, Master Dick.” Alfred muttered, though he didn’t seem impressed - he personally thought Y/N deserved better than all these lies.  
Dick could read the disapproval on his face, but he couldn’t do anything about it right now - he was wasting time. “Thanks Alfred!” He cried, dashing past the old man and into Bruce’s office and through the secret clock passage way once more.  
The batcomputer was flashing with a hit on a set of possible coordinates. Dick contacted the Batmobile again. “What took you so long?” Came Bruce’s gruff voice again.  
“Nice to see you Robin, thanks for taking time out of your day to help, Robin.” Dick muttered as he punched in the coordinates to send to the batmobile. “There’s been a hit close to the South Bridge, near the library, I’m sending the coordinates over now.”  
“Thanks.”  
“Is that all you need of me tonight?”  
The Bruce on the monitor raised his eyebrow under the batman mask. “You brought [Y/N].” It wasn’t a question.  
“How do you know?” Dick asked, surprised.  
Bruce said nothing. His knowing face was enough, and Dick sighed. The cat was out of the bag. “I couldn’t leave her alone at Christmas again, Bruce! Why do the criminals always choose the major holidays to plan their heists?”  
“[Y/N]’s feelings are the least of our problems, Dick. You don’t have to send her home, but I need all of your concentration on this.”  
Dick sighed heavily again, knowing there was no way he was going to convince Bruce to give him the night off. “What do you need me to do?” He drawled.   
“Focus down on these coordinates,” Bruce instructed glancing on the map next his communicator, “and get me all the information on that building – any signs of activity over the last month.”  
Dick sulked for a moment. “Fine.” He muttered sullenly before shutting off the communicator.   
He quickly started a search on the systems for any data on the abandoned buildings surrounding the old library, and then dashed back up the stairs to the kitchen, gesturing for Alfred.  
“And how long, sir, do you plan to keep this up?” Alfred asked with a raised brow as he followed Dick towards the drawing room. “All night?”  
“If I have to Alfred. Bruce isn’t letting up on the work and I don’t think he’ll let me change shifts.” Robin tried to joke, but there was no humour in his voice. He was starting to feel tired.  
They entered the large living room, finding [Y/N] still sat in the armchair having finished her hot chocolate. “Wow, you guys must gossip like house wives.” She laughed, helping herself to a mince pie that Alfred offered off the tray. Robin gave an uneasy laugh as Alfred shot him a look.   
“Oh yes…” Muttered Alfred, watching Dick, “We’ve been nattering for so long, that these mince pies have become quite cool.” Pointed out Alfred, with another unimpressed look at Robin.  
[Y/N] noticed this, “Oh, no its fine! Mince pies are good hot or cold – and these are lovely Alfred, thank you!” She beamed at the old man, who couldn’t help but smile back at her.  
“Aren’t you going to have one, Dick?” She asked gesturing to the tray that Alfred had now place on the coffee table next to her.  
“Oh no, I’m not hungry.” Dismissed Dick with a small wave of his hand, not in the mood for food, the stress of his situation starting to take its toll on him.   
“But I swear you said you were starving a minute ago.” Y/N pointed out with a frown.  
“Oh – yeah – I uh, I may have nicked a few whilst we were ‘nattering’” He muttered, doing his best sheepish impression, the heat on his cheeks genuine.  
“Oh.” Said Y/N, in understanding.   
“I will leave you two to it then.” Alfred said, bowing out of the scene. “I shall tidy up and then turn in.” He bid them goodnight which then returned and watched the elderly man leave the room.  
Dick collapsed into the chair next to [Y/N] closing his eyes briefly.  
“You look exhausted.” [Y/N] said, concern in her voice.  
Dick opened his eyes, and sitting up and looking across at her, trying his best to look alert. “No, no – I’m fine.”  
“No, you’re not. Come on, we’re calling it a night.” [Y/N] said firmly, pushing herself to her feet and grabbing Dick’s hand, helping to haul him to his feet. “Now. Lead the way, as I have no idea where I am going.” [Y/N] grinned at him.  
Dick couldn’t help but smile back, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Come on then.” He grinned, placing a kiss on the top of her head.  
He took her to his old room and went through their usual evening routine. Once they were both in bed, however, Dick lay wide awake, watching [Y/N] fall asleep. As soon as he was certain that she was deeply enough asleep, he slipped out of the bed and down to the study, disappearing once more down the secret passageway.


	12. Day 12 - Joker x Reader - Your Insane - Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is part of another series (Your Insane) that I am writing. I am afraid that its not particularly Christmasy - I didn’t really see a way to make it Christmasy without really forcing it for no reason!
> 
> Hope you Enjoy anyway!

To say that I listened to Bullock would be considered more than a lie. I didn’t drop the Joker’s case. I couldn’t.  
Instead, I was very careful to avoid working on it whilst I was at the station, instead, bringing the work back to my tiny flat to work on through the night. My only problem was - it was taking its toll on me.  
My hours at the station were still full of paper work and phone calls, and then, when I got home, I spent the night working through any of the tiny leads I had to the infamous clown criminal’s whereabouts.  
I felt I was finally managing to narrow down several spots that he might be found at, so I now spent my nights checking out these locations for hopes of a sign of the man.  
So far, no luck. He didn’t appear to stay in the same place twice, and – going by the conversations I was having with the regulars – I was always a couple of steps behind him.  
It was frustrating and not helping my sleep deprived mind.  
Several times at the station I had been asked why I looked so tired and I had lied about a family emergency keeping me up most nights. They’d offered to give me a few days off, but the last thing I wanted to look was weak, and I had politely declined them on the fact that I was sure it would be dealt with soon and I could manage for now.  
Except it wasn’t being dealt with soon.  
I wasn’t getting anywhere with all these late nights at clubs, and I was running out of options. I knew I didn’t have every location the Joker frequented, so I couldn’t estimate how long I would have to wait until he revisited on of the places I had been to – there was no way it was practical for me to go to the same club every night for a month to find the man – besides, the staff might get suspicious and warn him. There was a reason the Joker was never where the police thought he’d be. He must have eyes everywhere.  
I yawned widely as I looked up the second to last address I had to visit - planning to check it out in a few hours.  
It was called Club 52 – seemed promising. I dressed up like I had every night this week, putting on the nicer clothes I owned – though even they still weren’t particularly impressive thanks to my limited budget.  
When the cab pulled up outside the club that night I felt the familiar nerves hit me. I’d never been much for the clubbing scene, but I would have to get rid of Freya and become Officer Killian - a woman who didn’t care about the intimidation of the sweaty mass of people writhing to the music in the small dance floor space beyond the doors.  
I braced myself when I got to the front of the queue, pushing my way confidently into the main room, the heat and humidity hitting me straight away and making me want to bulk. I shifted my purse, so it sat more securely on my shoulder, and I pushed my way through to the bar on the opposite side of the room, and found a spare bar stool, ordering a cocktail whilst I surveyed the scene around me.  
I could easily have completely missed him if I hadn’t been watching the right corner of the room at the right time. But, sure enough, I caught a glimpse of green hair and pale skin against the back wall, through the mass of people. I almost couldn’t believe I’d seen it – I wouldn’t have trusted myself to not have been hallucinating by this point just to end this hopeless goose chase. And when I looked back there was no sign of him.  
But it was the only lead I’d had so far at any of the locations I had tried. Time to follow it up.  
I slid off the barstool, drink in hand, and wound my way through the bodies to the edge of the room where I had seen the small flash of a possible sighting. When I got there - not surprisingly - there was still no sign of him, but there was a doorway that must lead into the back of the club.  
I tired the door, and was surprised to find no extra locking mechanisms to keep any drunken people out, but I didn’t hesitate long, stepping through the door, though I reached inside my purse and gripped the gun I had hidden inside.   
Maybe I should have considered ringing back up. Or though, who was I kidding? No one would believe me - and Bullock was likely to complete his threat and get me removed from any small chance I had for field work.  
No, I was going to have to go this alone. I just needed to not be seen.  
The corridor directly after the unguarded doorway was completely empty as well. That was good for me, but I couldn’t help but wonder that maybe I was wrong about the criminal activity here – maybe it was just an innocent backstage of the club for the staff.  
The corridor seemed to run the length of the rest of the club, with a few doors leading off that looked like they led to storage rooms. That was, until I noticed a door that had been left ajar just a few metres ahead. When I peered through, it appeared to lead to a step of stairs that was clearly blocked off from the general staff usually.  
Bingo.  
I crept up the dark steps, not daring to search for a switch or get out my torch, instead I felt my way in the darkness, tripping on the edge of a few of the steps. At the top, I reached another door, but froze when I heard voices on the other side.  
“Where are the canisters?” Growled a low voice.  
“At the drop off point, Boss.” Replied another masculine voice. Canisters? He must mean the gas canisters. This had to be the Joker.   
“Pick them up.” Came the order. “You know what to do with them.”  
“Yes, Boss.” There was a pause. “What are you going to do, Boss?”  
“Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it Frosty?” Teased the growling man, and I could almost hear the creepy grin in his voice. “I’ve got a few things left to take care of here…”  
“What about the –“ ‘Frosty’ began before he suddenly stopped like he had been silenced by a gesture from the other man.   
“Don’t worry so much, Frosty…” He leered, “I’ll just take the back door.”  
Bingo. He clearly knew something was wrong – whether he knew I was here, or if someone else was after him – but either way I knew where he was going to be, and I could finally catch him.  
I quickly slipped back down the stairs, my heart skipping a beat when I missed the last step, but I recovered quickly, hopefully not making too loud a thump when I fell, and hurried further down the corridor to the back of the building.   
Sure enough, at the end of the corridor, was a fire door with a heavy metal push mechanism to open it. I slipped out and found myself in the freezing wintery alleyway around the back of the club. I slipped silently behind the large industrial bins opposite the door, hugging my arms close to my body and pulling out my phone.  
Though the Joker was only one man, I wasn’t underestimating him, despite what Bullock might think. Now I knew I had him, I’d call for back up - though I wouldn’t say it was me.  
“911, what’s your emergency?”  
“I need the police at Club 52, Hindle Avenue. The Joker is here.” I hurriedly gave the rest of the details in a gruffer voice with a slight accent. No one knew me that well yet to distinguish my voice. I was told a squad was on their way and to hang tight and hide or try to vacate the premises if I could. I remained behind my dustbins, teeth chattering against the bitter wind and my eyes trained on the door, not knowing how much time I had until the criminal tried to make his getaway.  
Not much it seemed.  
Barely 5 minutes after I had hung up, the door swung open and the Joker strolled out, trigger off the security light above the club door. I peered out around the edge of the bins and watched the man look up and down the alleyway before his eyes settle on the bins I was hiding behind.  
“I must say, I’m impressed, ya’ know.” He said clearly across the alleyway. “You’re the first one to actually manage to track me this far… You must be new…” He mused, a sly smile spreading across his face.  
I didn’t know how he knew where I was, but there was no point pretending I wasn’t there. I unfolded myself from my hiding place, stepping out from behind the bins and training my gun on him.   
It was the first time I had seen him in person. And he didn’t disappoint.  
He was quite tall and rather thin, though his white shirt - open at the top two buttons - and purple suit seemed to fit his figure perfectly – I guess he had the money for tailor made clothes. His face was narrow and gaunt with a prominent chin and sharp cheekbones. His eyes were slightly sunken and dark like he hadn’t slept in weeks, but his eyes were full of character and drew me in. However, the most eye-catching things were his smile - painted a bright red and the makeup extending past his natural smile and up his cheeks – and his hair which was spiked up in a wild, yet somehow styled way - the green colour still vivid even in the poor lighting from the security light above the club door.  
Throughout my entire surveillance of him, I didn’t say anything.  
“Clown got your tongue?” The Joker teased, then gave a loud cackling laugh at his own joke, a haunting sound that made my blood cold.   
“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say –“ I began, keeping my gun aimed at him, and trying to keep my voice steady despite my sudden nerves and the cold that bit at my skin.  
“Oh, don’t worry about that…” Drawled the Joker, dismissing it with a causal flick of his hand, “It’s not necessary.” He grinned. For a man with a gun trained at his chest, he seemed very relaxed.   
“- can be used against you.” I continued, and the Joker sighed loudly at my persistence. “You have the right to an attorney –“  
“I think I lost that right years ago.” Muttered the Joker as he listened to my speech, tapping his foot on the tarmac and flicking his hand impatiently, waiting for me to get it over with. “Are you done?” He asked irritably when I eventually stopped.  
I nodded.  
“Good, can I go now?” He asked, pointing down the alleyway and for all I could tell he seemed to be genuine. I frowned at him, not playing his games.  
All of a sudden, the sound of sirens punctuated the air. “Ahh…” The Joker said, rolling his head, suddenly seeming to understand, “You called back-up. You’re not as stupid as I thought.”  
Despite the fact he now knew there were more cops arriving, he still didn’t bother to make an attempt to leave - In fact, he seemed to be waiting patiently for them.  
It didn’t take long, there was a screech of brakes and I could see the lights flashing against the brick wall at the entrance to the alleyway. Now I just had to wait for someone to find us.  
Finally, someone decided to scout the alley, spotting me, and then the Joker opposite and crying for his colleagues. They ran up the small distance to us and, as they came into the reach of the security light, I recognised a few of them – none of them I was happy to see.  
Officer Parkins was the first one to finally acknowledge me. “Miss Killian. Should have known you’d be behind all this…” He drawled, swaggering up to me – he was almost as bad as the Joker.  
“That’s Officer Killian to you.” I snapped at him, too tired and irritable to put up with his bullshit right now.  
“Oooo kittens, got claws.” Grinned the Joker at the two of us.  
“Shut up, clown.” Snapped Parkins, the Joker just grinned wider, clearly enjoying that he’d hit a nerve.  
Parkins turned back to me, “Alright Killian, we’ve got it from here.” He said, brushing me off.  
“No way!” I snarled. “This is my case! I tracked this guy down this far!”  
“Last time I checked, you were an innocent bystander – at least, that’s what my radio said.” He grinned, and I faltered. Damn I knew that would back fire somehow.   
Making the most of me wavering, Parkins signalled to his men to secure the clown. They moved in on him from all sides, so he was surrounded, all with guns trained on him in case he made any sudden movement. “Hand over your weapons, Clown.” Ordered Parkins from behind the wall of cops. The Joker obliged him without protest, a content smile on his face as he pulled out 2 pistols from within his jacket and a pen knife from his trousers. He held them out agreeably, but no sooner had Parkins grabbed them, then an invisible signal seemed to be given and a well-aimed punch hit the Joker straight in the chest, winding him and causing him to double over.  
“Hey! That wasn’t necessary –“ I cried, stepping forward.   
When the Joker finally got enough air back in his lungs he let out a loud, echoing laugh that seemed to bounce off the walls around us.   
The next hit was a fist to the face, knocking him sideways, but he managed to catch himself and remain on his feet. “Stop it!” I snapped, pulling at the arm of the guy who threw the punch, but he just shook me off like an irritating fly, not taking his eyes off the laughing Joker, whose lip was now freely bleeding.  
The hits came faster now, from all sides until he fell to the floor, curled into a protective foetus as much as he could, but still laughing and grinning the whole time, despite the blood pouring from his possibly-broken nose and cut lip.  
I tired as hard as I could to break the Officers out of their beating frenzy, wrenching their arms backwards as they went to hit, trying to shove them off balance so their aim went wide. Eventually one of the men I was trying to pull back from the Joker’s prone figure, shoved me backwards and I tripped over my own feet landing heavily on my behind and grazing my hand where I flung my arm out, crying out in pain.  
The officer turned to me with an sick twisted smile, “See, this is why women shouldn’t be cops.” He leered, “They can’t handle it when things get dirty.” Content with this statement, and me lying on the floor, he turned back to this enjoyment of beating the Joker bloody. I, however, was not content to leave it there, and I scrambled to my feet, pulled at his shoulder so he turned towards me, and punched him squarely in the face. I hit him so hard he went over like a tone of bricks, crashing into the men next to him and – thanks to him being a rather large man – causing a domino like effect, knocking down the next two guys.   
My wrist hurt like hell and I shook it to try to relieve the pain. “You little bitch.” Snarled one of the officers, extracting themselves from beneath the dead weight of the guy I just punched – and now coming straight at me.  
I wasn’t sure what do to, still slightly reeling from punching the other guy, and my attacker took me by surprise by running at me, knocking us both to the ground. My head hit the tarmac hard and I couldn’t help but gasp out in pain again. The man pinned me to the ground, holding my upper arms, but I reached up and grabbed his shoulders, wiggling my legs out from beneath his body and curling them up against my chest, placing my feet on his torso and bracing against him, forcing him backwards enough to then be able to send out several sharp, rapid kicks to his pelvis, stomach and finally connecting with his chin, sending him flying backwards.  
Once he hit the ground, he didn’t move either.  
During this time however, the other officer I had managed to knock to the floor had got up as well, now seeing his other colleague in a heap he, too, turned for me. I was glad I had managed to knock the guns out of their hands when they’d fallen, or else I was sure there’d be a bullet in my head right now judging by the look in the crazed man’s eyes as he came towards me. My knuckles throbbed, and my head ached, I was starting to feel myself tire - I wasn’t how much for of this I could handle.  
The Joker’s laughter continued on, those it was weaker now, as he found it harder to breath under all the kicks landing on his torso. I sought out something to help me, and I caught sight of my gun which had fallen from my hand when I had been knocked over the first time. I scrambled my way backwards and snatched up the gun.  
But then I paused. I couldn’t shoot these guys - they were police officers!  
But I looked at them again and I no longer saw police officers. Nothing they were doing could possibly be considered inside the law. They were just simple thugs. And they were trying to attack me. I could see the look in their eyes when each cop had rounded on me. They weren’t looking to just subdue me - they had wanted to do some serious damage to me.  
I tried to remember back to my police training – only use as much force as necessary to deal with the situation - well my physical strength wasn’t going to be enough anymore. The gun in my hand was my only other method of protection.  
I aimed it at the man making fast advances at me and shot him in the foot. He fell with a cry of agony, but an odd possession seemed to have come over him and - alongside his rage at being shot - he was able to push himself up to his feet, continuing to stagger towards me. I had to do it.  
I pulled the trigger and he dropped down dead.  
The sound of the gunshots snapped the other two men away from the Joker, their attention now on me.  
Their eyes screamed crazy and dangerous. “What are you doing you bitch?!” Demanded Parkins, advancing on me quickly. I didn’t even hesitate this time - as Parkin was still armed with his own gun - and I aimed at his chest, but my hand was shaking too much with the rush of the situation and the bullet went wide, striking his shoulder instead. Parkins faltered, crying out in agony, before he turned on me again, reaching for the weapon in his belt. I shot him again, this time, aiming too low and hitting his stomach, but he went down now.  
The last standing officer looked at what I had done and ran back down the alleyway, towards the cruisers. I watched numbly, knowing that I was done for now. I had murdered one person, possibly two, and who knew the conditions of the other ones.  
Suddenly a hand grabbed the gun from my grip, firmly, but not forcibly, though it didn’t matter as my hands were so numb now, that I let go easily. A single shot went off and the escaping officer fell down dead.   
The gun was dropped back into my lap and a giddy laughter rang out behind me as the Joker slumped back against the wall, bruised, bloodied and out of breath.  
I came slightly back to myself, struggling to my wobbly legs and making my way over to the collapsed clown. Without thinking, I grabbed his limp arm and slapped a cuff onto his wrist, the other I locked around mine. After all of this, I wasn’t letting him get away now.   
But that was all I could manage, and I then fell against the wall next to the Joker, out of breath and energy.  
I stared out at the bodies that lay on the tarmac, Parkins still moaning as he bled out. “What have I done…!” I moaned, putting my head in my hands, exhaustion overwhelming me. The Joker didn’t say anything.  
Suddenly sirens filled the air once more. I snapped my head up, looking down at the alley way as though I could see the police cruisers heading this way. “Shit.” I muttered, “What am I going to do?” I panicked to myself, almost forgetting the criminal that sat next to me.  
“Give the gun to me.” Said the Joker next to me holding out his hand. I frowned at his palm.  
“Um… yeah, no.” I muttered, not in the mood for his jokes.   
“Aww, come on, doll…” He drawled, “I’m your only way outta this.”  
“And how did you work that out?” I asked, humouring him and finally looking at his face - barely managing to stop myself cringing at the site of him.  
Blood stained his pale skin - now mostly dry – from his bloody nose, lip and a few shallow cuts on his cheeks and forehead that continued to ooze slowly. His eyes were puffy and bruised, and his hair was messy and matted in some areas.  
“I’m already in for life.” He grinned, “Killing a few other insignificant cops ain’t gonna change my sentence much.” He winked - as well as he could with his swollen eyes.  
I seriously considered this now. He had a point, but could I live with that? And could I trust him not to turn me in? I didn’t mind giving him the gun – I was pretty sure it was empty now. I eyed him suspiciously and he watched me back with unsettling calmness. He looked sincere, but he was a criminal.  
But… I was pretty sure the gun was empty anyway…  
I handed the gun over. “Much obliged, doll…” He grinned, checking the chamber, I was right – it was empty.  
What I hadn’t bargained for was the Joker digging into his jacket pocket with his uncuffed hand and pulling out several bullets which he expertly loaded into the gun. “Now, doll…” He purred, admiring the gun in his grip, “Let’s go for a little walk.”  
Shit. Shit. Shit. I could have smacked my head on the wall and I almost wished I still had my gun just so I could shoot myself now before the Joker dragged it out. “Why?!” I demanded scowling at him as he trained the gun on me and got to his feet, forcing me to follow him.  
“Aww, don’t give me that look, doll…” He tutted, “I just want to give you a personal tour of this city… You are new after all…” He grinned slyly, a sinful spark in his eye.  
I didn’t say anything.  
“Aww, come on, kitten…” He whined, “This is going to be an even longer night if you’re not going to even talk to me…” He grinned painfully.  
I just glared at him.   
“We’ll work on that.” He dismissed with a wave on his hand, uncaring. “Before we go though…” The Joker drawled looking at me slyly, “Hand over the key.” He declared. I frowned at him, unsure what he meant, but then he gestured with the gun to the handcuffs between us. Understanding hit me and I rolled my eyes in exasperation as I in my pocket for the dug the key and reluctantly handed it over.  
I expected him to uncuff us then, but instead he pocketed it in his suit, patting the pocket, “It’s a big city… Wouldn’t want to lose you…” He grinned devilishly.  
And with a gun in my side, the Joker walked me out the back of the alley - pausing only for a moment to fire one of the bullets in Parkins, silencing his groans of agony – before he dragged me off into the night, the both of us still handcuffed together and the night closing in around us.


	13. Day 13 - Bruce x Rogues - Rogue Caroling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a bit of a weird, random idea, and of course if this did actually happen there is no way it would pan out like so, as we all know they would escape, but hey - i thought it was a funny idea!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The loud ring of the doorbell echoed throughout Wayne Mansion, calling Alfred from where he had been polishing the silver antiques in the dining room. He moved with no hurry to the door, the doorbell now being pulled incessantly, the chimes ringing out in an annoyingly high frequency. Alfred frowned - they rarely had company that would be this rude or childish.  
When he reached the front door, he pulled open one of the sides of the large double front door a crack, peering out to see who it was, blocking any entrance into the house – too many pompous visitors before had just barged their way straight in – but when he saw who was on the doorstep his grip on the door went slack and his eyes widen.  
“Merry Christmas!” She yelled enthusiastically, throwing her arms up in the air, the person next to her scowling, not at all impressed with the situation.  
“Oh my.” Muttered Alfred taking in both of the women, one dressed in full Christmas celebration with a festive jumper, skirt and hat, which the other had nothing of the sort. “Ca- can I help you, Miss?” He asked, addressing the only one that seemed to want to speak.  
“We’re singing carols!” Harley Quinn cried happily, throwing her arms back up into the air in a kind of ‘tah-dah’ gesture. “Aren’t we, Red?” Harley asked, addressing the red head next to her, though she kept her eyes on Alfred. Alfred glanced across at the other women.  
“Yeah.” Poison Ivy muttered, folding her arms and waiting for the hell to be over.  
“Right…” Murmured Alfred, unsure what to do now.  
“Who is it Alfred?” Came Bruce’s voice from within the mansion, and Alfred closed the door slightly further as he glanced back inside to the hallway where Bruce was carrying a mug of coffee towards his study.   
“You may want to see this, sir.” Alfred said, the seriousness of his voice instantly alerting Bruce and causing him to back track from the study and head to the front door. Bruce set his mug down on a antique table at the side of the hall and took Alfred’s place in the open door, the butler stepping aside for him.  
Bruce’s eyes widened at the sight as well. “Oh – uh – good afternoon.” Greeted Bruce kindly.  
“Merry Christmas!” Cried Harley once again.  
Ivy seemed to perk up at the sight of Brue and muttered something about, “Hello handsome…”, going to apply some more lipstick, but Harley elbowed her in the ribs.  
“We’re suppose to behave.” She hissed. Red scowled at her in annoyance, but resumed her bored, uncaring look once more anyway.  
Bruce pretended to not hear this exchange and cleared his throat, “So – uh – how can we help you ladies?”  
Harley giggled girlishly at being called a lady, “We’re singing carols!” She explained.  
“Oh – ok.” Said Bruce, slightly confused, but trying not to show it. “Don’t let me stop you.” He gestured to them.  
Harley glanced at Ivy and then back to Bruce beginning to sing ‘Away in a Manger.” Ivy did not join in, keeping her arms folded and her gaze away from the front door, firmly fixed on the shrubbery that lined the base of the mansion.  
Harley finally stopped after another two carols, grinning brightly at the still startled billionaire. “That was very nice, thank you – um…” He dug his wallet out of his back pocket and handed over several notes to the girls.  
Harley grabbed them excitedly and Ivy perked up slightly at the sight of the cash. “Gee, thanks!” Harley beamed, leafing through the notes. “Merry Christmas!” She shouted as she skipped down the steps onto the driveway, Ivy trailing along behind her.  
“Merry Christmas.” Bruce called after her, still slightly confused as to why the two criminals, who should be in Arkham Asylum, were instead sauntering down his drive without a care. Bruce shut the door and headed to his office, forgetting about his coffee.   
“Sir?” Alfred called, having lingered in the hallway whilst the exchange went on. “Shall I call the police?” He asked, following after Bruce as he opened the secret entrance to the batcave.  
“Not yet.” Came the muttered answer. Alfred continued to follow after him, though lagging behind on the dark steps that led down to the Batcave. By the time he emerged into the cavern, Bruce already had his batsuit on and was holding his cowl.  
“What are you going to do?” Alfred asked with a frown.  
“Find out where they went. And hopefully why they were here.” Bruce muttered, pulling the cowl over his head. “I need you to track the other inmates – check for any escape alerts.” Alfred nodded, and Bruce was gone.   
It didn’t take him long to work out where Harley and Ivy had gone, because it wasn’t far. They may have walked down the drive, but they were now stood – still in the grounds – by the main gates to the mansion’s property.  
They looked relaxed, and were happily chatting away, there arms wrapped around their bodies against the cold. They didn’t look to be in a rush to leave, they clearly didn’t think that Bruce was going to call the police on them. But why? Had they somehow figured out he was Batman and knew he’d rather take them down himself? Surely, they wouldn’t look that relaxed and carefree if they knew the batman was only in the mansion up the hill?  
Bruce was perched on the roof of the mansion, his cape flying out behind him in the cold wind. Alfred had yet to alert him to the whereabouts of the other inmates, but he no longer needed to, Bruce had been so focused on the two women to the side of the main gate, he hadn’t noticed the figures that slipped in through and were now making their way up the long driveway.  
“Uh – sir.” Came Alfred’s crackling voice over the batsuit’s intercom.  
“Alfred?”  
“We have some more guests.” Just then the doorbell rang out and Bruce crept to another part of the mansion’s roof to get a better view of the front door whilst remaining in shadow.  
It was Scarecrow and the Mad Hatter.  
“Good evening, sir.” Jervis Tetch politely greeted Alfred, tipping his hat to the aged butler. “Me and my companion here,” he gestured to Dr Crane next to him, “are here to entertain you with a few festive carols.”  
Alfred didn’t say anything, but must have nodded in agreement or something similar because Jervis started singing ‘Oh, come all ye faithful’ and the scarecrow unenthusiastically joined in. The two men only did the one song, unlike Harley, but none the less, Alfred copied Bruce’s action of handing out a small bit of cash to each of them. Jervis tipped his hat once again in thanks and parted with a “Merry Christmas.”, echoed by Crane as they stepped away from the front door and headed back down the drive.  
Bruce moved back to his previous position and watched the men as they wandered through the grounds until they reached the two girls still stood by the gates. He could see Harley greeting the two of them, Jervis seem enthusiastic to see her, but Scarecrow looked as sullen as Ivy.  
Bruce set up a portable camera onto the roof, zooming in and focusing on the small gathering of villains before he headed back inside.  
“Sir?” Alfred greeted as Bruce re-entered the batcave.  
“They’re by the main gates. All four of them.” He muttered striding over to the batcomputer, Alfred moving out of his way. Bruce pulled up the camera on the roof, and then the security camera by the gates, turning the view on the small group. They were still just chatting away without a care.  
“What could they possibly be doing?” Alfred asked.  
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” Muttered Bruce.  
It didn’t end there though. They kept coming in pairs to the door of the mansion. The Penguin and Mr Freeze, Deadshot and Soloman Grundy, and then the Riddler and Killer Croc. Each would greet with a Merry Christmas, sing a few carols and then join the slowly growing party at the gates to the property – they seemed to have arranged it so there was always one more slightly enthused criminal paired with one who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there.  
Bruce didn’t stop monitoring them the whole time.  
“Do you think they know?” Came a voice over Bruce’s shoulder as he bent over staring at the camera footage.  
“I don’t think so.” Bruce muttered back to Robin who peered over past him at the monitor.  
“What do you think they’re waiting for?”  
“I don’t know.” Bruce muttered, as he flicked through news articles on one of the screen of the computer. “There’s no sign of a breakout from Arkham and it wouldn’t make any sense for them to gather in large numbers at the bottom of the grounds.”  
Robin nodded along to this. “Wait – who’s that?” He suddenly asked, pointing at the top monitor showing two more figures walking through the gates, one of them waved at the group, but then carried on up the drive to the mansion like all the others had done.  
A glance at the other monitor which showed the footage from the gate camera confirmed who the figures were.  
“I don’t believe it.” Murmured Robin, his eyes glued to the screens.  
“Stay here.” Bruce ordered, already on his feet and heading out of the cave.   
He changed back into ‘Bruce’ with a smart pair of trousers and casual shirt, warning Alfred seconds before the bell sounded once more in the house.  
Bruce answered it this time, playing the part of being shocked and more than a bit terrified that the Joker and Two-face were on his doorstep.  
“Evening, Brucey.” Greeted the Joker with his characteristic grin on his face and a Santa hat on top of his green hair. Two-face didn’t say anything, looking very unimpressed with his lot in all of this, his arms folded, and purposely not looking at Bruce.  
“Uh – good evening.” Bruce replied, his voice slightly shaking.  
“Ah, don’t look so worried Brucey!” Cried the Joker, laughing, “I know we’ve had our differences but it’s Christmas and me and Harv here –“ He nudged Two-face in the side with his elbow which made the man instinctively step out of range, turning on the clown with a snarl, hands body alert, ready for a fight. The Joker didn’t seem to care, “Behave Harv, remember.” He reprimanded with a fake scowl before turning back to Bruce with his grin back in place. “We’re here to bring ya some Christmas joy!”   
“Take it away, Harv!” The Joker cried, beaming at the half-deformed man who still looked ready to knock him to the floor. The Joker’s smile didn’t falter though, and he let out a laugh at the death glare.  
Despite Two-faces reluctance to be a part of any of the little charade going on, the Joker still continued with the plan, singing his carols rather theatrically whilst Bruce watch in confusion – not all of which he had to act.  
After yet another set of carols, the two criminals waited expectantly as Bruce dug around in his wallet for his remaining cash which he handed to the men. Both of them bid him a Merry Christmas – Harvey finally meeting his old friend’s eye – before they followed the same route the others had taken down the drive.  
Bruce was still in shock on the doorstep as they strode off, quite content with themselves. Dick suddenly appeared next to him. “This is the weirdest Christmas ever.” He muttered.  
“What about the others?” Asked Bruce, though he didn’t take his eyes off the retreating criminals’ backs.  
“Still stood in the same place.”  
“Sir?” Alfred suddenly appeared behind them. “You might want to see this.” He led them into the large living room where the news channel was on.  
“-ham Asylum inmates have been out on the streets today in a new rehabilitation programme with a Christmas twist, traveling from door to door singing carols for the public. They have been under close watch with loaded security bracelets should any of them act out during their small period of freedom and those deemed to insane have not been granted this trip. They are scheduled to finish their route at Wayne Manor where they will be transported back to the Asylum this evening. We hope all of you and - even them - a Merry Christmas!”  
Dick stared at Bruce who stared at the TV.  
“Alfred.”  
“Yes, sir?”  
“Warm up some of those mince pies and make a pot of hot chocolate, I think we need to warm up some carolers.”


	14. Day 14 - Ivy x Harley - Christmas Memories - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, this isn't my best chapter, but today has been chaos as I'm travelling home for the holidays tomorrow and I needed to get everything ready.  
> Definitely not my best writing, and quite short!  
> Hope you enjoy anyway!

“- on, we’ll conspire, as we dream by the fire! To face unafraid, the plans that we’ve made, walking in a winter wonderland!” Ivy and Harley sang into the same microphone on the little stage of the club, both of them singing their hearts out with big grins on their faces.  
“Walking in a winter wonderland! Walking in a winter wonderland!” They finished on a high note, holding it as long as they could, one hand wrapped around each other, the other in the air as they finished.  
The crowd watching the karaoke burst into applause and the girls bowed theatrically to their audience. “Thank you! Thank you!” Cried Harley as she soaked up the drunken appreciation.  
“See, Harls.” Ivy gestured to the crowd in front of them. It was working as a good distraction.  
Harley nodded eagerly, “Your right, Red. Come on, let’s do another one!” She said pulling at Ivy’s “PPPPllleeassee!!” She begged, jumping up and down slightly.  
“Fine.” Sighed Ivy, trying to supress a smile – Harley’s happiness was infectious.  
They got back into place behind the microphone and nodded to the DJ for the next song. He nodded in return and chose the next track. The minute the beat started, Ivy panicked.  
“The snows coming down, I’m watching it fall, lots of people around. Baby. please come home. The church bells in town are ringing in song, full of happy sounds. Baby, please come home.” Ivy could almost see the cogs turning in Harley’s mind out of the corner of her eye.  
“They’re singin’ Deck the Halls, but it’s not like Christmas at all, ‘Cause I remember when you were here, and all the fun we had last year!”  
By the second chorus, Ivy could see the tears running down Harley’s face and she was beginning to choke on the words. Eventually she couldn’t manage any more and collapsed into herself, throwing her hands to her face as she sobbed.  
Ivy immediately stopped singing and pulled Harley backwards into the recesses of the stage. “Harls? Harls?!” She demanded sharply, shaking the girl slightly, “Come on, snap out of it.” Harley just sobbed louder. “Aww come on Harls!” Snapped Ivy, frustration getting the better of her, “Don’t let that clown ruin a perfectly good night!” But Harley seemed beyond consolation and Ivy gave up.  
“Ok, let’s just wrap this up and get out of this place.” Ivy muttered, turning away and leaving Harley at the back of the stage whilst she walked back up to the microphone. The song was just finishing now, the crowd a bit confused by the sudden event on stage, but content to just dance to the music.  
All eyes turned to Ivy when she gestured at the DJ to cut the music. “Better.” She said when there was a sudden silence in the club. “Now, boys…” She drawled seductively, scanning her eyes over the mostly masculine room. “Why don’t you give us girls a little Christmas present?” She teased, and suddenly there was a gun in her hand.  
The room was full of gasps at the weapon and then a sudden storm of activity as everyone ran for the exits, but their paths were abruptly blocked by large thorny plants that burst from behind the furniture - where they had slowly been germinating since Ivy dropped the seeds there when entering the club.  
The plants corralled everyone into the centre of the room and Ivy made her way round to each person - Harley following on behind sullenly, no longer crying, but depressed and mopey, not reacting at all to the amount of cash they were raking in.  
“Oh boys, you shouldn’t have!” Ivy gushed as she filled her purse with expensive watches and wads of cash. Once she was finished her collecting, Ivy paused by the doorway, stroking a stray tendril of the thorny plant. “Now, don’t you boys be naughty and tell on us, or else you’ll get more than coal in your stockings.” She said, looking suggestively at the vine that now affectionately wrapped around her wrist. “Come on, Harley.” She called, turning and sashaying out the door, Harley following obediently on behind like a scolded puppy.  
Harley didn’t say anything the whole way back to the house, occasionally a stray tear rolled down her cheek, but Ivy chose not to confront her again - though she couldn’t help rolling her eyes at the emotions.  
Ivy pulled the convertible into the garage, parked the car and turned to the teary girl. “Ok, Harley. Enough moping.” She said firmly. Harley looked up at her with big doe eyes, shiny with tears. “There is a reason you are here and not there.” She told her, knowing Harley knew what she meant. “Us girls don’t need anyone but ourselves. Guys do not complete us. If you are nothing without that clown then, sorry Harls, you are no one.” Harley lip wobbled, and fresh tears dripped down her cheeks, though, somehow, she remained silent.  
“But, Harls,” Ivy said, grabbing Harleys shoulders, “I know you are someone. You’re my annoying housemate. You’re my unbelievably eccentric friend. And you are a strong and brilliant woman.”  
Harley a small, weak smile, her eyes red.  
“Right, come with me.” Ivy suddenly instructed, getting out of the car.  
“Why?” Asked Harley, the first word she had said since she had stopped singing.  
Ivy didn’t answer, already swaggering towards the house. Harley only hesitated a second before following after her.  
“Red?” Harley called following Ivy through the front door. Ivy finally stopped by the lounge where the door was uncharacteristically closed. Harley frowned between Ivy and the door in question. “I needed to buy some time.” Ivy said in a way of explanation.  
“What?”  
Ivy pushed the door open.  
Harley’s jaw dropped open at the sight.  
In the corner of the room, a Christmas tree was growing directly out of the floor, the top brushing the ceiling and the roots weaving in and out of the floor boards.. A box of decorations sat at the foot of it and, nestled in the bare branches, sat a single small rectangular present.  
Harley couldn’t say anything, just giggling ecstatically and jumping up and down, looking between Ivy and the tree in amazement.  
“Figured this was the only way I was going to let you have a tree.” Ivy shrugged.  
“Now it can be Christmas all year!” Shrieked Harley, running over to the box of decorations. Ivy looked anything but pleased at this idea, but she couldn’t help smirking as Harley dashed around the room, throwing tinsel like confetti.  
“What’s this?” Harley asked, stopping abruptly - her eyes having found the present in the tree.  
“An early Christmas present.”  
Harley eagerly snatched at it, ripping at the paper. It was a photo. A photo of Ivy with an uncharacteristically wide grin and thumbs up as she took a selfie. Behind her was the snow-covered street they had walked down earlier that evening with Harley stood with her back to her as she gazed around at the Christmas lights that hung above between the buildings.  
“Thought it’d replace all those others.” Ivy explained, mentally cringing with the fear that mentioning the other photos again would send Harley off again. But instead, Harley simply remained frozen, staring down at the photo in her hand. God this was worse, thought Ivy.   
“Merry Christmas, Harls.” Ivy muttered, about to turn and leave the room in defeat. Suddenly arms wrapped around her from behind pulling her into a crushingly tight hug.   
“Merry Christmas, Red.” Came the muffled spoken into her back.


	15. Day 15 - Oswald x Zsasz - Perfect Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a day late - I wrote most of it yesterday during my lectures, but then I was traveling home for Christmas all day yesterday so didn't get time to write it up and post it! And then today I've been ridiculously busy too!  
> It's not the best because it's a bit rushed, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Oswald Cobblepot strode into his office moodily. All this Christmas joy was driving him insane. That was the 5th person to ask him for time off around Christmas and the 5th time that he had said no. Business didn’t stopped for the holidays so neither did they.  
Suddenly Oswald stopped, staring at his desk in front of him and the Santa hat sat on it. Except, instead of the traditional red, it was black with white trim and, in large block felt letters it read ‘Bah Humbug.’  
“Zsasz!” Shouted the Penguin glaring at the offending accessory.  
The assassin appeared silently behind him in the doorway. Oswald grabbed the hat and spun as smoothly as his limp would allow him, shoving the hat at the bald man. “Find out who did this!”  
“Don’t you want it?” He asked, his voice lacking any emotion.  
“No! Get rid of it.”  
Zsasz studied the hat in his hand, shrugged and then fitted it onto his own head, before striding off out of the doorway, the bobble of his hat bouncing behind him.  
Oswald rolled his eyes in exasperation at the ridiculous sight.

 

“Zsasz!” Came the strained voice of the Penguin once more from his office. The assassin appeared once more in the doorway, waiting alert for his orders. “What is this?!” Oswald snapped, leaning just out of his chair, hands pressed on his desk and jabbing one at the odd object before him.  
“A penguin” Answered Zsasz simply.  
“I can see that.” Said Oswald, painfully restraining himself, “but why is it on my desk?!”  
“It’s a present.”  
“From who?” Asked Oswald, bewildered.  
“From Me.” Said Zsasz. “You didn’t like the hat, so I got this instead.” Oswald stared at him with a furrowed brow and slightly open mouth like he’d gone mad.  
“Why would I want a Penguin?”  
Zsasz shrugged, “It winds up.”  
“And why would I want a wind-up Penguin?”  
Zsasz shrugged again, “Could strap a bomb to it.” He suggested completely seriously.  
Oswald just stared at him in bewilderment again before closing his eyes and breathing deeply. “ Just.” He breathed. “Get rid of it.” He said, waving his hands at the toy towards the door and then turning back to his work.  
Zsasz took the toy.

A few days later, Oswald once again entered his office at the Iceberg Lounge, around mid-afternoon, grumbling over the incompetence of his men. How hard was it to intimidate someone into a business deal?!  
He threw himself down onto his throne-like chair in a huff, scowling at nothing in particular, then reached for his decanter to pour himself a much-needed drink, when his eyes landed on a box he hadn’t noticed on his desk.  
He frowned at it in confusion, it was a perfectly wrapped and looked exactly like a stereotypical Christmas present with red wrapping paper and a golden ribbon that finished in a bow on the top.  
No tag. That was suspicious, and yet Oswald had top security for any mail he received, none of it reaching him until it had been checked over for any attempt to remove him from his throne over Gotham.  
So, it must be safe.  
He took a knife from the pocket of his suit and – still carefully – slit the paper and ribbon, minimising the damage to the wrapping. He carefully lifted the lid of the box to find a severed head tucked neatly inside on a bed of tissue paper.  
Immediately he thought this must have been a threat for him, that this was one of his men or business partners, but no, on a second look he recognised the man behind the swollen, slightly singed features. Marko. The gangster that had been refusing to pay any money to Oswald and failing to cooperate with any of his arrangements.  
Oswald grinned triumphantly at the gangster’s head. Who had delivered the dead man to him?  
He was about to open his mouth to cool for Zsasz once again, when the man suddenly appeared in the doorway to his office.  
“Ah, Victor, just the man I was looking for – do you know who did this.” Oswald asked, gesturing to the box on the desk.  
“Yes.” He answered in his usual monotone. “It was me.”  
“Oh” Said Oswald, pleasantly surprised. “Well thank you, Victor.” He said, limping out from behind his desk, “That is very helpful.” He said with a smile at the assassin, stopping before him. “Probably the perfect Christmas present.” He admitted.  
“Do you know how I did it?” Asked Zsasz with a sly spark to his eye and a smirk on his lips.  
Oswald frowned in question at him.  
“I strapped a bomb to that Penguin.”  
Oswald’s eyes lit up at this. “Hmm… Maybe we should invest in some more…”


	16. Day 16 - JokerxReader - Christmas Hatred Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, there was only supposed to be 2 parts to this story, but I havent had much time today to do my writing so it's shorter and not great writing so there will be a part 3 eventually.  
> So I havent had much time to edit either, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

The Joker caught up with her easily, not that she cared. She ignored him a bit longer until he suddenly linked arms with her.  
“Come on then, doll. Let’s do this.” He grinned devilishly, showing no remorse for his earlier actions and she could still feel his lips on hers. She scowled inwardly at his enthusiasm, but she wasn’t about to let him get the better of her.  
“Yes lets.” She said determinedly, tightening her grip around the arm he had linked through hers, and marching on - dragging him along a few steps before he kept pace with her again.  
They strode through the rest of the market - neither of them paying that much attention to the stalls - and ended up in the main square where a huge ice skating rink had been set up and couples and families spun chaotically around the sides.  
“Whatta ya think, doll?” Asked the Joker with a raised eyebrow and an evil glint in his eye, knowing the answer she wanted to give.  
[Y/N] eyed it warily, knowing the amount of holiday cheer around these places and the death traps that ice rinks were. You were supposed to avoid ice – not purposely slip and fall on it for fun.  
“Let’s do it!” she said with a steely look at him. He didn’t look at all phased, calling her bluff.  
And so, the next thing she knew [Y/N] was gripping the side of the ice rink, her legs locked as she dragged herself along, desperately trying to not move any muscle but her arms in case she overbalanced - the painfully cheerful and cliché Christmas music blaring out from the speakers around. The Joker, however, somehow seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and [Y/N] had to wonder if he’d set her up as he kept skating past her in his large overcoat and hat without a care in the world.  
When she finally fell on her butt, the Joker skidded to a stop nearby. He offered her a hand, and she almost had the urge to reach for it, until she saw the large grin plastered on his face behind the upturned collar of his coat. Instead she ignored the gesture, not giving him the satisfaction of having to help her.  
[Y/N] tried to scramble to her feet, but her knees kept giving way and she fell heavily numerous times on her butt. Feeling very bruised, cold – thanks to inadequate clothing – and out of breath from the effort, she eventually gave up, huffing in defeat as the cold bit at her exposed skin and her trousers became damp from the ice underneath her.  
The Joker had been watching her attempts to stand with amusement. “Look, doll, I know your trying to be stoic and all…” The Joker drawled, then offered his hand again. [Y/N] glared at it, but eventually had to conceded when she saw no other option.  
The Joker pulled [Y/N] to her feet, but the skates slipped out from under her and she fell once again, the Joker snatching at her waist and only just catching her, causing [Y/N] to land heavily against him. She didn’t know how he stayed upright.   
“Well this is nice, doll…” Purred the Joker next to her, and [Y/N] could feel the vibrations from his chest in her own. When she realised her position, [Y/N] instinctively wrenched herself backwards from the sudden physical – and quite intimate – contact. But any attempts to shove herself back upright only led to her skates kicking uselessly beneath her body, and [Y/N] was instead forced to lean on the Joker even more.   
Eventually she stopped struggling - out of breath and her legs aching. She could feel the gentle shaking of the Joker’s chest under her own as he silently laughed at her attempts to distance herself.  
He shifted his grip on her, wrapping his arms firmly around [Y/N]’s waist and pulling her more upright so she no longer leaned as heavily on him - though her legs wobbled beneath her and [Y/N] had to reluctantly keep a tight grip on the Joker’s arm to maintain her balance.  
“You alright, Princess?” The Joker teased with a cheesy grin, gripping her arms in turn to keep her up. [Y/N] scowled at him and he laughed - though keeping it quiet so the people around them couldn’t hear the distinctive sound. “How about I give you a hand?” He purred with a glint in his eye.  
“No thanks.” [Y/N] snarled, forgetting herself and who she was talking to.   
But her snappiness didn’t seem to irk him, instead he smiled lazily “Fine.” He shrugged, then released her arm, skating a few steps backwards, and leaving [Y/N] stood on her own without any support. She stayed upright, but she was stuck. if she tried to move now she would end up on her arse again and stuck there.  
“Ok. Fine. Help me.” [Y/N] muttered reluctantly, unable to meet his eyes, embarrassed by how useless she was and knowing he would probably make the most of her weakness.  
“Hm, doll?” He said, cupping a hand to his ear.  
“Please…” She growled, holding a hand out.  
He let out a short laugh and then skated the short distance towards her, ignoring her hand and grabbed her waist instead, pulling her towards his body. [Y/N] automatically tried to pull away, but slipped and he gripped her tighter, keeping her upright, but his hand on her waist made her tense.  
“What are you doing?!” She demanded.  
“You want my help, doll…” He said with a raised eyebrow, “Then we do it my way.” He grinned sinfully. [Y/N] rolled her eyes, but he took that as a ‘fine’ and spun her around so suddenly that she flung her arms out wide, ready to catch herself when she fell, but the Joker caught her easily, hands easily finding her waist again, but now she was facing away from him, her back against his chest. “Ready, doll?” He purred in her ear, but didn’t wait for [Y/N]’s response, already pushing off, and pushing her along in front of him. He shifted his hands when she wobbled a bit at first, one remaining on her waist, the other shifting to her left arm, holding her almost like a waltz, though she was facing the wrong way.  
“What are you doing?” [Y/N] demanded, confused.  
“Stopping you from falling, doll.” He growled in her ear, continuing to skate them both forward. The Joker pushed her around the rink a few times, eventually instructing her to try to move her feet and loosen up a bit. He wasn’t the most patient instructor – especially when she wasn’t that trusting of him or his advice – but the minute she did begin to wobble, or her feet slipped out from underneath her, he kept her up, somehow keeping himself up at the same time. [Y/N] was pressed so tightly against his body for fear or falling that she could feel every time his muscles tense when she slipped and - though she was embarrassed by the closeness for a while – she eventually got used to it and relaxed, forgetting who she was with and what he did.  
The time passed quite quickly once [Y/N] had gained a small bit of confidence in what she was doing, and it wasn’t long before the session was over and they had to make their way over to the exit – The Joker still holding her waist.  
When they finally exited the rink, [Y/N] was out of breath, her legs killed, and she was visibly shivering. She noticed the Joker watching her closely, and she wrapped her arms around herself against the cold and self-consciously looked in the opposite direction - pretending to survey the Christmas scene around them.  
“Ok,” [Y/N] finally said, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen between them. “I think it’s my turn to choose the next line of torture.”  
“Looks like you already have, doll.” He said, nodding at her and she frowned back in confusion. “You look like you’re freezing to death.” He explained.  
“Does that mean you have to, as well?” [Y/N] teased, nodding to his coat. “That was one of our conditions I believe.” She added.   
“Ah, doll, I would…” He grinned, “but then you’d probably spend a night in the GCPD for being found to be consorting with a criminal… - and it’d ruin our big date.”  
{Y/N] raised an eyebrow at him and seem to consider this problem. “Well if you don’t have to suffer, I don’t think I should either.” She said with a triumphant smirk, intrigued to see if he would agree to this.   
“You’re right, doll.” He said, going along with it – much to [Y/N]’s surprise. “Let’s solve that problem...”  
He led the way back to the market where it had now become so dark that the street lamps overhead were the main light source on the displays still out. The Joker scanned the line of stalls as they pushed through the still quite crowded street. Eventually he pulled her to a stop by a stall selling winter garments. [Y/N] wasn’t sure what she expected – probably for him to hold the salesman up with the gun she knew was still in his pocket, and rob the place or something – but instead he pulled out a wad of cash from one of the many inner pockets of his coat, and bought her a fur lined coat, with a matching set of a scarf, hat and gloves. He seemed to be oddly quite knowledgeable about fashion despite the face he was an insane criminal.  
[Y/N] thanked him over and over again as they wandered back down the street, but eventually The Joker growled at her to shut, and so she did, but he still seemed more down now – maintaining his frown.  
“You know - if you hate this so much - we can just stop this now.” [Y/N] pointed out to him, assuming his mood was because of his hatred for the festivities around him.  
“Nice try, doll.” He growled.  
“What’s wrong then?”  
“I wish I hadn’t bought you those things.”  
[Y/N] was slightly taken aback by this – after all it wasn’t like she had forced him to buy them, he’s just done it. “You didn’t have to buy them for me!” She explained quickly “– I would if I had my purse on me – but I didn’t have time to grab it earlier before you dragged me out of my flat!” She defended, “I can pay you back if you want!” She continued to babble, flustered and embarrassed that he was so annoyed about having to buy her something.  
“Doll.” The Joker growled, holding up a hand to shut her up. [Y/N] closed her mouth immediately. “I don’t care about the money.” He told her firmly and she frowned, confused what the problem was then.  
Suddenly a smirk crossed the Joker’s face. “I wish I hadn’t bought those things, doll,” He said, stopping in the middle of the street and turning towards her. “because now your hidden away from me…” He drawled, reaching out a hand and tugging lightly at the scarf wrapped snuggly around her neck. “Under layers…” he drawled, his eyes on the small amount of her throat he had exposed. “And, I’m not gonna lie doll… I like looking at my kitten.”  
“First of all, I’m not your kitten.” [Y/N] said firmly, and his eyes flickered to hers now. “I don’t like being objectified – plus I barely know you, and you’re a criminal.” She listed off, mainly talking to herself. “Secondly, I’m not taking these layers off,” she said, gesturing to her outfit, “just because you happen to like the look of me, because – for the first time in about 2 hours,” she guessed, “I can finally sort of feel my fingers.”  
The Joker burst out laughing at this, his grin back, and eventually [Y/N] couldn’t help it either and began to laugh with him, not caring who was looking at them as they stood in the middle of the wintery street.


	17. Day 17 - J x R - Christmas Carol Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that the Joker is a bit out of character! I've spent too long on this to spend any longer and it's nearly midnight!  
> Hope you enjoy!

J was surprised when he suddenly woke. He hadn’t realised he’d fallen asleep – hadn’t even realised he had been drifting off. He didn’t think he could have slept for more than a few minutes, but the clock told him it was close to one o’clock.  
J hoped that the brief sleep might have helped to clear his mind somewhat from all of these hallucinations. It was true that he nearly always had voices screaming different things in his head, and yes, rarely he saw things that weren’t actually there, but - even more seldom – did he get these repeat illusions.   
Maybe his last trip to Arkham and their aggressive ‘cures’ had pushed his brain that bit further into the realms of complete insanity.  
One thing J was certain of was – if the Marlo hallucination was right and he was expecting two other illusions tonight - he wasn’t going to be caught by surprise again by one of the phantoms his brain conjured up. So, he remained sat in his chair, ignoring the alcohol now, watching the office door, waiting for his next visitor. But nothing happened, and he couldn’t help feeling oddly more tense because of this.  
J was just beginning to think maybe he should listen to one of the voices saying he ought to retire to his bed to catch up on some clearly much needed sleep, when the clock on the mantle chimed for the hour and, as the single faithful dong struck out, the office was filled with same brilliant light that had illuminated it previously. Only, this time, it didn’t come from the window behind him, instead this light seemed to be emitted from within the pent house, outlining the office door where it shone through the surrounding cracks.  
J was forced to squint at the brightness, holding one hand up to shield his eyes. He wasn’t one to hesitate, or fear, and he had thrown caution to the wind a long time ago – so he rose to his feet and strode to the door, ready to confront whatever his mind had chosen to conjure this time.  
The minute his hand touched the handle of the door, a familiar voice said his name, but it wasn’t Eddie this time. J knew exactly who it was, and he rolled his neck in annoyance. It was that pompous black-market dealer Oswald Cobblepot.   
The Penguin called for him to enter as though the Joker had been polite enough to knock on his own door.  
J scowled at the door, but pushed it open none the less - his curiosity getting the better of him. However, he paused almost immediately by the sight that greeted him beyond the door. What should have been the hallway of his penthouse, no longer was. Instead, he seemed to have somehow opened the door into the unused penthouse dining room. To check he hadn’t somehow managed to completely blank out the hallway, J glanced backwards, seeing his desk, chair and shelves of books. He turned his attention back in front of him, and, sure enough, there was still the neat, unused table and chairs by the floor to ceiling windows that made up the dining room.  
The Joker hesitated, but only for a moment, before he stepped into the room. The door immediately closed behind him, even though he gave it no shove, and when J glanced back at it in surprise, the door seemed to melt into the wall until there was no trace of it. Maybe he was dreaming this time.  
But that didn’t matter to him at the moment, and he turned his gaze back into the room, seeming to see it with fresh eyes now. It wasn’t just his unused dining room, it had been luxuriously decorated with Christmas decorations of holly, golden tinsel, wreaths of orange and cinnamon, and a large decorative runner that ran along the length of the table, embroidered with red, green silver. At the head of the table sat Oswald Cobblepot, as large and regal as ever.  
The Penguin regarded the Joker down the end of his nose with distaste. “Ah, the clown has finally arrived - though we all knew punctuality has never been your strong point.” He sniffed.   
“What do you want, Ossie?” Drawled the Joker, barely managing to supress a snarl.  
“I am the Ghost of Christmas Present.” Said the Penguin, as if that explained everything. “Take a seat.” He said, gesturing with a flick of his meaty hands to rest of the table, but the Joker didn’t move. “Never mind then.” Dismissed the Penguin, uncaring. “The present can’t wait much longer.”  
Penguin rose to his feet from his chair, which the Joker now realised was not a chair, but a pile of suitcases over flowing with cash and bags of coins and jewels.   
This must be a dream.   
The rotund man, made his way over to the Joker, but something seemed wrong about the man. J couldn’t place it until the man held his umbrella out. Penguin wasn’t limping. His path to him had been smooth and unencumbered by his twisted leg.   
“Take hold of the umbrella.” The Penguin ordered.  
The Joker had basically made it his life not to follow rules or instructions, but he had gone unwillingly with his last hallucination, and the experience that it had showed him seemed to have lightened his mind somehow - though clearly not removed his hallucinations – and was J’s intrigue was peaked with what this phantom would show him. He said no word, but lightly gripped the material, Penguin’s hand remaining on the top of the curved handle.  
Just then, a cold, strong wind seemed to blow in through the windows which now appeared to hold no glass. The Joker tried to release his grip on the umbrella, but his hand seemed to be stuck fast, his fingers unable to uncurl and he was forced to keep a tight grip on the umbrella. The wind seemed to pick up more, blowing out the lights, despite the fact they were electric, and then seeming to blow out all the furniture and objects around them as well. Everything dissolved into a thick smoke that swirled around them, not choking, but obscuring everything until it faded to a light mist that settled around their feet where they stood on one of the many snowy streets in Gotham City.  
J spun around, taking in the surroundings. The night didn’t seem to have changed much from the last time he’d been out here only an hour ago, except they were now stood on a street lined with tall office blocks or flats, and a cold drizzle of snow blurred J’s vision. The Penguin though, only had eyes on one thing, and the Joker followed his line of sight. It was a tall, rather grim looking block of flats that towered directly in front of them.  
“What is this?” The Joker asked.  
The Penguin turned to him, half obscured in the snow. “This is the present.” He said simply. Then a short gust of wind blinded them with a flurry of flakes, and, when it cleared, they found themselves in hallway lined with numbered doors that must have been flats. Joker looked at the door directly in front of them. It was dark grey with a chipped golden 23 screwed into the wood. As J was about to ask what the point in all of this was, the number 23 door swung open inwards. Except Penguin hadn’t touched it, and there was no one on the other side of the door. Instead, J had a clear view into the apartment within. It was furnished with minimal, basic furniture that had probably come with the place and it lacked any personalisation from the owner in any way except for a few plastic bags and takeout containers on the table by the sofa.  
Penguin stepped in and the Joker automatically followed.   
They walked past the small living room area and a small dining table, reaching the doorway of the kitchen. Here they found a young woman - probably in her late 20s - desperately trying to stop a pot, of what looked like potatoes, from boiling over.   
The Penguin said nothing to explain why they were there, nor did the Joker ask, both of them just watching the scene before them as the woman – having just rescued the potatoes by lifting them off the hob – threw the saucepan back down again when the oven timer went off, grabbing instead for a pair of oven gloves on the counter near her.  
The woman dove into the oven and removed a rather dry looking chicken which she quickly shoved onto a spare bit of work surface, shaking her hands where her oven mitts had thinned. Just then, the potatoes began to hiss and spit as they boiled over again as she had thrown them back onto the hob without thinking.  
The woman quickly rescued her potatoes once more, moving them to safety by shoving a few dirty utensils out of the way on the sideboard. Happy that everything was safe once more, the woman lent against one of the counters, exhausted and wafting her face with her hand at the heat that had built up in the kitchen.   
Before she had much time to relax, a young girl, about 6, appeared in the doorway next to the Joker, holding a worn and battered teddy. “Mummy!” She cried, “When’s Uncle Johnny coming back with Jimmy?” She whined, not noticing her mother’s flustered state.  
“He should hopefully be back any minute, honey - God knows mummy needs his help.” She muttered as an aside.  
The girl grinned at this positive answer and skipped straight past the two criminals watching the scene without seeing them, and into the living room area to obsessively watch the door, listening intently for footsteps.  
The little girl didn’t have to wait too long, as within 5 minutes there was the sound of heavy feet on the hallway outside and then a key in the lock. The young girl jumped excitedly to her feet and raced to the door bouncing up and down with uncontrollable energy.  
When the door opened, the Joker let out a breathy growl. Frost.   
He had a young boy - who looked to be a similar age to the little girl - sat on his shoulders, gripping either side of his face.   
“Frosty!” Screamed the little girl and ran at him, still clutching her teddy. Frosty knelt down and scooped up the girl as she hurtled towards him, lifting her easily.  
“Hiya lottie, did ya miss us?” He asked with a grin, placing the girl on his hip. The man in front of J now looked nothing like how he knew him. Instead of his usual suit, tie and emotionless face, Frost as wearing jeans, a Christmas jumper and a grin as he looked down at the little girl.  
“No. Not at all.” The little girl lied, but she couldn’t keep it up for long when she saw the look on her Uncle’s face - which was a dramatic look of devastation at this claim – and she soon burst into a fit of girlish giggles.   
“You lied to me?” Frost asked in dramatic disbelief. The girl nodded through her giggles. “Can you believe that Jimmy? The porkies your sister tells!” Frost cried, lifting his head slightly to the boy perched above him.  
Jimmy laughed at Frost’s clearly fake outrage. “Come on, let’s find your chair, and mummy.” Frost said, carrying both of the children into the flat and finally closing the door. The ‘chair’ in question had been pushed out of the way behind the sofa and Frost wheeled it out now, going to deposit Jimmy into it, but the young boy protested violently, wishing to stay on his Uncle’s shoulders instead.  
“Ok, but make sure you duck when I go through a door, ok?” Frost said, “Or at least tap my head to make sure I remember to duck.” He teased, and the young boy eagerly nodded. They head for the kitchen then, Lottie skipping on behind them. “We’re back!” Called Frost to his sister who was still struggling with the Christmas Eve meal.  
“Oh, thank God, Johnny!” She exclaimed, a look of relief in her eyes when he appeared. “I honestly suck at cooking!” She exclaimed, gesturing to the mess the kitchen was in, used plates and bowls scattered on every surface, stray pieces of food on the floor where they had fallen.  
“And you think I’m any better?” Asked Frost with a laugh. His sister couldn’t help but smile at his good mood. “The fact you tried is what matters.” He reassured her with a hand on her shoulder, “I’ll give you a hand in a minute.” He added. “Now come on you two, let’s set the table.” And he pulled the children out of the kitchen again, grabbing a pile of plates and handing the cutlery to Jimmy on his shoulders.  
He lay out the plates, calling up to Jimmy for the cutlery he needed which was promptly handed down to him - narrowly missing his nose a few times, but Frost didn’t mind - and continuing to ask Lottie to remind him how many people he was laying the table for, keeping her giggling.  
The Joker was lost in the scene before him. Frost was so good with the kids and they were on their best behaviour for him in return. The young Jimmy stayed on Frost’s shoulders as he set the table and still remained there when Frost went to help his sister in the kitchen. The young girl, Lottie, was also a constant shadow to the large criminal, asking to help where ever she could.  
Eventually they all sat down to a slightly dry, over cooked dinner, but no one complained and all the dishes were finished – the children overcome with delight when a microwaved pudding was brought out for dessert.  
The Joker and Penguin stayed there the whole time, listening to the conversation and – though they must have been there for hours – it barely felt like any time before they were watching the kids being packed off to bed.  
The two adults settled on the small sofa afterwards with a strong drink.  
“That was a wonderful meal, Lucy, really.” Said Frost, toasting to her.  
“Don’t thank me!” She protested. “It was you who payed for it! And who saved it in the end!” She said, raising her glass to him.  
“I guess we should thank the Joker, really, otherwise I’d be stuck in prison with no money and no use for my cooking skills.” Joked Frost.  
“I will not raise a glass to that insane criminal!” Said Lucy moodily. “I know what sort of a man he is – even if you choose to ignore it! You wouldn’t have ended up in that prison if it wasn’t for him anyway!” She snarled.  
“Woah Lucy! Cool down.” Frost said, gesturing for her to tone it down. “You know better than anyone else that I was destined for prison years before I met the Joker – I had nothing else and always got in trouble! Plus, what other job would I get on with a criminal record, hmm? Nothing that pays this well! I’d end up in a fast food joint on minimum wage and I wouldn’t be able to help you out with supporting the kids.” Frost pointed out. Lucy scowled, but remained silent, resigning herself to the truth.   
“He’ll miss you when we go.” She said suddenly, “Jimmy.” She clarified, taking a sip from her glass. “And Lottie – they’ll both miss you.”  
“He’s a good kid – they both are.” Said Frost, his face no longer showing any sign of the happy, laughing person he had been only an hour ago, now he just looked very tired.   
“He loves being on your shoulders.” Lucy said, reminiscing to her son’s smiling face early. “He hates that bloody wheelchair almost as much as I do.”  
“Have you spoken to the doctor about crutches?” Asked Frost, “At least then he’d be trying to use his legs more – might help.”  
“The doctors say his arms are too weak and frail – he wouldn’t be able to support himself on them for long.” Lucy said sadly. “But they also say if he doesn’t start to use his muscles soon, he’ll only deteriorate - and he’s depressed enough as it is…” She trailed off  
Frost looked at his sister sadly, placing a large hand on her knee in comfort. “You know you’re always welcome to stay here.” He said.  
“You know I’d take that up in a heartbeat, Johnny – you’ve always been such a help – but I can’t do that to you - you do enough as it is. Besides, this place isn’t big enough for 4 people – especially when two of them are hyperactive kids.” Lucy murmured, her eyes showing her hopelessness.  
Frost knew she was right and just gazed sadly off, sipping at his glass.  
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a sharp blast of snowy wind cut across the Joker’s vision, blurring the scene before him and it dissolved before his eyes.  
“Tell me, Ossie…” Drawled the Joker as the snow sped past them, “Do you know what’s gonna happen to that kid?” Despite this having to be created by his brain, he felt the hallucination was likely to know more about this then he consciously did – they seemed to be quite otherworldly and omnipotent – and the Joker had the odd urge to know a bit more about this young boy’s future.  
The Penguin regarded him with an unimpressed look and a raised eyebrow. “If nothing changes, then he won’t live to see his high school graduation.” The Penguin muttered, sounding anything but interested.  
The snow finally cleared and J was able to see more than an inch in front of him again. It didn’t take long for the Joker to recognise their surroundings even in the darkness of the early morning. They were on the outskirts of Gotham and directly in front of them was a bungalow.  
“Care to tell me, why we’re stood on a toxic waste dump, Ossie?” Snarled the Joker, trying to keep himself civil to the hallucination, but the anger in his voice was obvious behind his restraint.  
“Always so foolish.” Tutted the Penguin. “You’re safe.” He muttered, though he didn’t sound pleased about this fact. If this had been the real Penguin, J probably wouldn’t have believed him, but this should all just be a hallucination anyway - so he should be safe. Yet, everything up till now had been so real that he had panicked when he saw the familiar swamp-like surroundings, the darkness making it even more menacing. He had to admit Pamela had style – and good security.  
The two men wandered closer to the bungalow that – from the outside – look abandoned like all the other buildings in this area, expect for the fact that it had numerous colourful lights draped around it.   
That wasn’t Pamela’s style. Which only meant she wasn’t alone.  
The men stopped outside the main front window which showed into the rather small living room with a couple of sofas, an electric fire and a TV. The room was decorated quite extravagantly with lights, tinsel and festive ornaments. And, sure enough, curled up on one of the sofas was Pamela Isley, her arm wrapped around none other than Harley Quinn. Both in thick, fluffy pyjamas watching a movie - Harley close to drifting off in Pamela’s arms - looking completely content with life and missing no in their own little world.  
“Why are you showing me this?” Demanded the Joker, turning to the Penguin next to him.  
Penguin shrugged, “Maybe to show you that no one needs you in their lives. That if you choose to leave them, they live on and they will be happy. But you will always be alone.”  
The Joker scowled darkly at the plump man. He could talk – J doubted anyone would miss ol’ Ossie here if he happened to vanish - except maybe his customers. Joker hated to admit it, but the man was a half-decent smuggler and dealer.  
As J thought about this, the lights in the room in front of him suddenly went out. He frowned at the window, the light suddenly flickering back on, but this time J’s view into the room was blocked by a large Christmas tree decked in golden lights and different coloured baubles.  
J blinked, and the next thing he knew he was stood in the hallway of a rather large house. On his right was a doorway through which he could hear voices. He peered through and saw a small gathering of 6 people on comfy sofas, enjoying a strong drink after having retired from their evening meal. The fire was roaring in the hearth and, sat against the window, was the large tree that had blocked J’s view a moment ago.   
Suddenly his attention was caught by a laugh that seemed to drown out all other voices in the room “[Y/N]” He growled and his eyes snapped to the source of the sound, finding [Y/N] chuckling away to something the man next to her had said.  
“That was a wonderful meal, by the way, [Y/N].” said one of the ladies on the other side of the room, raising her sherry glass to her. Even from this distance, J could see her blush.  
“Yes, delightful!” Cried another person in agreement.   
“Shame that the 7th person couldn’t make it.” Added another one, clearly not knowing who it was that was missing.  
“Well… Yes…” Said [Y/N] uneasily.  
“Didn’t you say he was awfully rude about it though?” Asked a rather uptight looking lady close to the fire.”  
“Yes, he was bit…” Muttered [Y/N], clearly not happy about the direction the conversation had now turned. “But I guess he didn’t miss much though.”  
“Only a great meal!” Cried one.  
“And wonderful laughs!” Called another. “Bah humbug to him too!”  
“Oh, there’s no need for that!” Cried [Y/N]. “I believe the man is miserable enough without it.” She said. “Besides, I don’t hate him for how he rejected my invitation.” She explained, “No matter how rude he was. It just makes me sad to think of him all alone, missing better company then he could ever have in that head of his, stuck in that old office.” [Y/N] mused. “I do however, mean to continue to invite him here each year - despite his uncouth words. I feel like I am defying him and his bah humbugs that way – the fact that each year I return in good temper to ask once more. And maybe I incite the smallest amount of a Christmas in him by doing so – and that is enough for me.” [Y/N] finished, taking a large gulp of air. Clearly, she had been thinking about this matter a long time, and this line of conversation had finally brought it out of her.   
“Hear, hear!” The room called jovially to her speech.   
“You truly are a sweet person. [Y/N] – you just embrace the meaning of Christmas!” Cried one of the younger women. “I would probably have slapped that man silly by now!”   
[Y/N] laughed heartily, “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it!” She teased.  
The scene then seemed to ripple like water and a clock tolled two o’clock in the darkness that then consumed them. The Joker didn’t even realise he had closed his eyes until he opened them again and found himself back, once more, in his office.   
The Penguin was nowhere in sight.   
J didn’t bother to search for the man. He was starting to get the gist of when his hallucinations were over. He didn’t even bother to reach for his drink this time either. No amount of alcohol was going to help this, and it would probably only make it worse if he were to drink himself into a stupor.  
Besides, he knew someone else was going to come now. Marlo had warned J of 3 hallucinations and J believed there would be 3.  
So the Joker wasn’t surprised when he turned away from the office door and saw a tall, dark, cloaked figure silhouetted in the window behind his desk.


	18. Day 18 - Imagine - Reader x *Whoever you want* - Hanging Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Ok, I’m copping out a bit on today’s advent and I’m unbelievably exhausted and I can’t think what to write and even if I could, I’m not sure I can write it properly, so I’m just going to leave you guys with another imagine!  
> Sorry if I’m letting anyone down! Hope you enjoy anyway.)

Imagine telling *whichever character you want to put in this imagine* to help you decorate the house for Christmas, but all they do is hang up loads of mistletoe strategically…

 

You: “Have you literally only put mistletoe up?”  
Them: “I feel it’s more sophisticated than that tacky tinsel and string of lights stuff.” A few minutes later: “Are you actually pulling my mistletoe down?!”  
You *taking down some of the mistletoe* “Well otherwise I’m going to be kissed every 5 seconds.”  
Them: “The genius of it is, the faster you run, the less time between kisses, and the further you run, the more kisses you get.” A brief pause: “Do I still get to kiss you if you’re holding it?”  
A few moments later when your finishing hanging up the decorations that they refused to hang.  
Them: “You know you get kissed when you’re under the mistletoe…  
You: *wearily* “Yeah…”  
Them: Well…. Are there any other decorations that entitle you to reach any of the other bases? Preferably fourth…” They grinned sinfully.  
You just roll your eyes.  
Despite your protesting you leave up a large number of the mistletoe and - though you often forget it is there – they always make a point of watching out for it and kissing you at any opportunity they get. And it’s never just a peck on the lips either – they always make it a long, drawn out and passionate kiss. They also always try to make it lead onto to something more, forcing you to be the strong, controlled one to say no – though you don’t always succeed.   
You: *After the 6th piece of mistletoe in 30 minutes. “This stuff is dangerous”


	19. Day 19 - Robin(Dick Grayson) x Reader - Two Lives Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how great this chapter is as I kinda made it up as I wrote it - but I must admit I do enjoy writing Alfred haha  
> Hope you Enjoy!

When [Y/N] woke the next morning, the space next to her in bed was empty. This wasn’t in itself wholly odd - as Dick was often an early riser - but that didn’t explain all the times she had woken in the night to find the same thing.  
In those early hours of the morning, [Y/N]’s sleep disorientated mind had put it down to always waking when Dick had been in the bathroom, or maybe fetching some water, but now she thought about it again. She awoken three times in the night to find the bed empty, and now he wasn’t here this morning either. Had he been in the bed at all?  
She scrambled out of bed and threw on a jumper, taking to the hallways and wandering the mansion, checking rooms and calling for him as she went, getting more and more worried when there was no response.

Dick Grayson suddenly woke up where he had finally passed out - half falling out of the chair in front of the batcomputer monitor. He had spent the entire night trying to help Bruce track down the criminal after all the warehouses around the old library had turned up empty. And - despite the hours he spent on it - he still felt like he had made very little progress.  
The reason for his sudden awakening wasn’t clear until a newspaper was dropped promptly on his lap. “Good Morning, Master Dick.” Alfred greeted, stepping around the side of the chair and depositing a mug of coffee on a free surface. Dick just groaned in exhaustion, wishing he could still be asleep. He watched Alfred tiredly, the old butler’s face showing his usual neutral expression, though Dick could still read the underlying unimpressed air from him.  
“I thought I ought to inform you, sir,” Said Alfred with a bored expression, his voice lacking any emotion, “That miss [Y/N] is wandering the mansion as we speak calling your name. She seems to think you are missing – and definitely will when she cannot find you.”  
Shit. He’d had only meant to stay down in the cave for a few hours to finish helping Bruce with his rounds and tracking – he’d hadn’t meant for it to take him all night.  
Bruce. Shit. He’d be home any minute as well.  
“What did you tell her, Alfred?” Dick asked desperately.  
“I haven’t spoken to her yet - I conveniently avoided her - assuming it would be best to tell you first.”   
Dick breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Alfred. I’ll head out the back of the cave and walk round the front door – say I went out to get milk or something for you.”  
“Could I suggest, then, Master Dick, that you actually have ‘milk or something with you’ to help solidify your story?” Said Alfred, smartly.  
Dick could feel the heat in his cheeks from the near mistake. “Yes, your right. Can I borrow some milk?”  
“I’m afraid, sir, that you have anticipated my own request, for I’m very near out of milk and so I do actually require you to fetch some.” Said Alfred. “It’ll do you good to get some fresh air I’d think.” He added.  
Dick stared at the butler which a frown, hoping this was one of his infrequent jokes, but Alfred’s expression remained serious and Dick sighed in defeat, pushing himself tiredly to his feet.  
Dick downed the scalding hot mug of coffee and then headed out the down the cave to the batmobile’s runway.  
Alfred watched him go, only allowing himself a small smirk when the young lad had reached the bottom of the cave. Did he really think Alfred wouldn’t have the entire mansion stocked with every necessity the day before Christmas? That would teach the boy to not only treat Miss [Y/N] better, but also to not underestimate the butler.

It took longer than Dick thought it would to walk to the shop – having not walked there since he was much younger and having forgotten how long it took to cross the mansion’s grounds on foot - let alone the time it would then take to hike to the nearest shop. He had briefly considered the use of his motorbike, but [Y/N] was sure to hear the engine and that wouldn’t match the story he had woven.  
When he finally arrived back at the mansion, he rapped wearily on the door, thinking of nothing but his bed. Alfred answered the door as usual. “Why thank you, Master Dick.” He said as a greeting, taking the milk - and the only evidence Dick had.   
“So, I didn’t need the milk then, did I?” Demanded Dick hotly.  
“Not at all Master Dick, we could not guarantee that Miss [Y/N] would not answer the door if I was otherwise occupied.” Pointed out Alfred. This seemed to calm Dick slightly, but Alfred failed to mention that he had been watching Dick’s progression to the Mansion since he entered the gates at the start of the long driveway. He had ensured he was the one to answer the door. Just for fun.  
“I believe Miss [Y/N] is having breakfast.” Alfred informed Dick now, as he closed the door behind him.  
“Thanks.” Dick muttered, still not in the best mood for all his efforts, and headed off in the direction of the dining room.  
“Dick!” Cried [Y/N] when she saw him enter the room from where she sat at the head of the table, a large continental breakfast spread out before her – far too much for [Y/N] alone – Alfred had really out done himself for her. “Where have you been?!”  
“I had to pop to the shop to get Alfred some more milk.” Dick explained.  
“But Alfred just came in here with a huge jug of milk.”  
“Uh – yeah – that was his last one.” Dick scrambled.  
“Oh… He never strikes me as someone who doesn’t have a back-up…”  
“Yes – well – uh – probably the pressure of the whole Christmas getting on top of him, ya know…” Dick muttered, wishing she’d drop it.  
“You were gone a rather long time.” [Y/N] pointed out after a brief pause where Dick had sat down and helped himself to a croissant.  
“Uh – yeah – it’s a quite a long way on foot.”  
“Why didn’t you take the bike?” [Y/N] frowned.  
“Oh, you know how loud that thing is – I didn’t want to wake anyone.” Exclaimed Dick, thinking on his feet. [Y/N] nodded along to this, but there was still a trace of concern on her face.  
There was another, longer period of silence as they continued to eat, [Y/N]’s eye rarely leaving Dick – as though if she did, he might vanish again.  
“Are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?” She suddenly asked.  
Dick looked down at himself, checking what he was wearing, “Uh, yeah – you know what I’m like, I don’t really care.” Dick shrugged, “Besides, I couldn’t sleep, so before I came downstairs I just threw on whatever was closest to hand.”   
“How early did you get up?!” Exclaimed [Y/N].  
“Uh – why?” Asked Dick warily, wondering if he’d somehow managed to put his foot in it.  
“Just because I woke up numerous times in the night, and you were never there.” [Y/N] explained.  
Dick’s mind panicked, “Uh, yeah – well – uh –“ And he laced together the best story he could at a moment’s notice, coming up with different reasons as to why he hadn’t been in the room throughout the night.  
[Y/N] seemed to buy it, though she clearly still wasn’t too happy with it all.

Once breakfast was cleared away, [Y/N] asked what they were doing that day, considering they both had it off to do what they want – or so she though anyway.  
“Uh – I was hoping to go try and nap and catch up on some sleep…” Murmured Dick, awkwardly. He knew [Y/N] clearly relished the idea of them spending some time together, but right now he wasn’t sure what sort of company he’d be.  
“Oh – uh – sure…” said, [Y/N] clearly disappointed.  
“But we’ll definitely do something this afternoon.” He promised. She looked at him for a moment, as though weighing up how much to believe him.   
Eventually she smiled, and it looked genuine. “Sure.” She said happily, “I’ll go see if Alfred needs any help with the preparations for tomorrow.”  
With that they parted ways – Dick up to his room, [Y/N] off towards the pantry.

 

Dick was awoken once more a few hours later. His head groggy and muddled with sleep. It took him a moment to remember everything that had gone wrong so far. He wasn’t surprised to find it was Alfred once more standing over him, with his usual bored expression.  
“Good day, Master Dick.”  
“Alfred…” Groaned Dick in response.  
“Master Bruce would like to see you in his office.” Alfred told him.  
Dick turned over in bed, burying himself amongst the covers and pillows. “Can’t he leave me alone for a few days.” He moaned into the sheets.  
“It would appear not, sir.” Said Alfred unsympathetically, as he turned and left the room, his job having been done.  
Dick lay in bed a few moments longer, before he finally dragged himself reluctantly from the pull of the bed.  
He found Bruce in his office, keeping up his appearance by sitting at his desk with a mug of strong coffee and not looking anything like he’d had less sleep than Dick.  
“You wanted to see me?” Dick grumbled as he strolled into the office.  
“Yes.” Was all Bruce said, his attention busy on whatever was on the desk in front of him.  
Dick frowned at him, rolled his eyes and dropped down into the armchair by a large wall of bookcases. “Can I ask why? I was sleeping after all.”  
“I need you to run a scan for a number plate I have.”  
“And why can’t you do it?” Dick asked grumpily. That made Bruce looked and he frowned.  
“If this is about [Y/N], I said – “  
“I know what you said, I’m just not overly thrilled about it.”  
“I never asked for you to be thrilled about it, I asked for you to do it.” Bruce said simply.  
Dick glared at him across the room. “One Christmas! One Christmas! That’s all I asked for! One Christmas off to be with my girlfriend! And you can’t even give me that!” He cried, angrily, his lack of sleep and stress of the last 24 hours finally getting to him.  
“You know I don’t make the rules for when we have to work.” Bruce said darkly, though his voice was perfectly calm. “But we have to be able to respond to whatever happens. You asked to be part of this and I warned you what it entailed, but you forced me to let you in anyway.” Bruce told him, “This isn’t a hobby you can pick up and drop. This is a life and you know it.”  
“If this is a life, then I want [Y/N] to know it.” Dick stated firmly.  
Bruce scowled. “I will not have you telling every single girl that you ever date. If you think you can juggle a love-life with this life,” Bruce gestured around, “then you can date, but if you try and mix those lives – we have a problem.”  
“Then I guess we have a problem.” Muttered Dick, before he promptly left the room.  
He headed to the pantry to finally spend some time with his girlfriend, but only found Alfred there, rolling out a large circle of pastry.   
Dick frowned, “Where’s [Y/N]?” He asked.  
“I don’t know, sir.” Alfred said, looking up, “She went looking for you.”  
“For me? But you knew I was talking to Bruce, why didn’t you stop her?!” Dick demanded.  
“Well sir, when it comes to stubbornness, Miss [Y/N] is very similar to yourself.” Alfred pointed out.  
Dick sighed loudly in exasperation and then left the room quickly, heading back to the rest of the mansion to try to figure out where [Y/N] had got to.  
He checked the rooms around the office, the dining room, the drawing room and their bedroom, but she was nowhere. Dick was beginning to panic now – had she left the mansion altogether for some reason?  
He began to systematically check every room in the mansion and was beginning to believe she must have gone when he finally heard a noise as he was walking along the corridor of one of the rarely used sections of the house.  
He tracked the noise – which sounded slightly like a whimper – to a bedroom that hadn’t been used in years.  
“[Y/N]?” He asked gently, knocking lightly at the door. No response, but he pushed the door open anyway.  
The room was relatively empty, most of the furniture covered with white sheets. [Y/N] was sat on the dusty bed, the curtains closed, and only the bedside lamp throwing any light in the roof.  
“[Y/N]?” Dick asked again.  
She looked up at him then, “Leave me alone.” She muttered, dropping head her back down so she was looking once more at her hands folded on her lap.  
“What’s wrong?” Dick asked, taking a step into the room.  
“Don’t, Dick.” She murmured, but there was something hard in voice and she didn’t bother to look up. Dick ignored her though, moving over to her and kneeling in front of her, taking hold of her hands in her lap.  
“No, come on. Spill it.” He said firmly, squeezing her hands reassuringly. Instead of words though, she burst into sobs.  
“That wasn’t quite what I meant.” Muttered Dick, moving so he perched on the bed next to her and pulled her into his chest, feeling his t-shirt dampen under her tears.  
When her hiccupping had subsided slightly, Dick tried to get an explanation from her again.  
“I overheard you and Bruce.” She managed to sob out.  
Oh no. “What exactly did you hear?” He asked warily.  
“Enough.” She muttered between hiccups into his chest “I don’t want to get in the way of whatever it is you need to do!”  
“I have nothing I need to do that is not with you.” Murmured Dick in her ear.  
She suddenly pulled back from him. “Stop lying to me! I know you lied about Bruce wanting me here! I know you lied about every time you left me yesterday and I know you lied about last night and this morning!” [Y/N] cried, “Alfred has at least 3 weeks supply of milk!” She snapped.  
Alfred. Dick glared internally. Note to self to string up the butler. Dick didn’t say anything though, just pulling [Y/N] back into his chest which she didn’t resist, a fresh wave of tears hitting and soaking into his shirt and skin.  
“I’m not mad at you for lying to me, I know you must have a reason.” She sobbed, her voice muffled against his body, “I just don’t want to be the thing between you and Bruce – I know you are family.” She sniffed.  
“You’re not in between me and Bruce.” He told her firmly. “Bruce is between me and Bruce.”  
He continued to comfort [Y/N] for at least an hour, both ending up curled together on the musty, dusty bed, [Y/N]’s head resting on Dick’s chest, and both falling asleep amongst the white linen covered furniture.   
When Dick woke up it was getting dark and he was alone on the bed again. Damn that girl kept slipping away from him.  
He pushed himself quickly off the lumpy mattress and hurried out the room and down the hall. He found Alfred dusting the dining room ready for the Christmas meal the following day.  
“Where’s [Y/N]?!” He demanded, worried she had gotten it into her head that she ought to leave. That was the last thing he wanted right now.  
“I don’t know Master Dick,” Alfred said in surprise at the urgency in Dick’s voice, “but I thought I saw her heading towards the front door.”   
Shit. He ran out of the room and down the hall towards the large entranceway. That was when he heard the raised voices in Bruce’s office. Oh no.  
Dick skidded to a halt and turned, aiming for the office now instead. He crept up to the door which luckily hadn’t been fully closed, getting as close as he dared to listen before he barged in.  
“-op overworking him, otherwise one of these days he’ll snap!” Came [Y/N]’s angry voice. “I know you kept him up all of last night, despite what he told me! And now he’s upstairs, dead to this world because of you!” Dick could see her in his mind’s eye, jabbing a finger at Bruce whilst he sat pretending to flinch on the other side of the desk.  
“I’m sorry, if I have angered you in anyway, Miss [L/N], that certainly wasn’t my intention.” Said Bruce innocently. “I just had some urgent work last night that Dick agreed to help me on.”  
“Your just as bad a liar as he is.” Grumbled [Y/N].  
Dick chose this point to knock on the door and step in.  
“Ah, just the man I wanted to see.” Said Bruce, standing up and eying Dick seriously behind [Y/N]’s back as she turned to face him.  
“I thought you’d still be asleep.” She said in surprise.  
“Trying to bully Bruce all alone? You know that’s my favourite past time.” He teased lightly, though like Bruce, he knew the seriousness of this situation. “I don’t need you to fight my battles though, [Y/N].”  
“I’m not fighting your battles, I’m fighting my own – which just happens to include you.” She said shortly. Dick held his hands up in apology.  
[Y/N] rounded back on Bruce. “There is something between the two of you. I don’t care if you don’t want to tell me what it is – but please stop coming up with these lame excuses – it just makes me wonder what stupid you think I am!” With that she stormed from the room, though Dick was glad to see she headed further into the house, rather than turning for the front door.  
“Bruce, I – “ Dick began, turning back to the man who had collapsed back into his chair again.  
“You know my rule, Dick. You can’t just tell every girl you think you have a crush on.”  
“But she’s not just a girl I have a crush on. She’s [Y/N]. She’s it. If it’s not her, it’s no one. She might not know that, but I do – this is my way to show her.” Dick insisted desperately.  
Bruce eyed him with a steely gaze as though measuring up his words. “On your head, be it.” He eventually muttered, turning his attention to a document on his desk, signalling that it was the end of the conversation.  
Dick couldn’t believe what Bruce had just said. He immediately strode quickly for the door, but didn’t miss the quiet “Merry Christmas.” Murmured from the direction of the desk. He couldn’t stop himself grinning as he ran down the hallway.  
Now all he had to do was find a way to tell [Y/N].


	20. Day 20 - Joker x Reader x Bruce Wayne - Plan B(ruce) Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this is the second part to a separate serious I have just started writing - if you like this chapter (or want to read part 1 first) feel free to go check out my series Plan B(ruce)!  
> Hope you Enjoy!

J had been right. This was the best room in the house. This was probably the best room in the whole city. It was situated at the very top of the Wayne Enterprise Tower and the room took up the whole floor, the walls on my left and right made completely of glass that showed the breath-taking view over the city on either side. Not only was the view gorgeous, but the room itself had been lavishly decorated with expensive festive decorations – a large, extravagant tree next to the small stage which had been decked in tinsel and lights where a live Jazz band played upbeat Christmas songs, wreaths on each window, golden embroidered table cloths, mistletoe on the pillars, candles in brackets that gave off a distinctly Christmassy smell.  
It was beautiful and made me feel like I’d just won the lottery.  
I’d made J buy my dress for me – knowing he could afford it - and I hadn’t held back on the price label.   
That would teach him to use me like this.  
But then, I couldn’t help thinking as I looked around, this night didn’t look like it was going to be complete torture. Everyone looked just as stunning, all making the most of the free open bar and the dainty canapes handed out by servers whilst they gossiped away, or swayed to the tunes performed on the stage.  
But who was it I was supposed to be talking to again?  
I helped myself to one of the glasses of champagne that were being handed out at the entrance, then stepped my way delicately to the side of the room, trying to look like I belonged there. I sipped at the alcohol as I wandered the perimeter of the room, surveying the room and the company that milled noisily in the centre, occasionally unable to help my glancing out the tall windows at the city that way laid out before me.  
Most people in the room seemed to have paired up – whether because they arrived that way, or that was the way these socialites just gathered, I wasn’t sure – and I couldn’t help but wish that J was with me, so I didn’t appear so lost on my own.  
Despite this, I made sure to enjoy myself amongst the riches none the less – after all how often was it that I would be able to pretend to be an aristocrat and all the perks that came with it? I made sure though, to keep an eye out for my target – the infamous Bruce Wayne. I had seen him in enough news reports and newspaper articles to know vaguely what he looked like, but I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to pick him out amongst all these other men business men in their identical suits.  
Ok, enough of being on the outskirts of this part, it was time to dive into it now that I’d had a bit of liquid courage. I placed my empty glass on a cloth covered table in one of the corners of the room, then confidently sashayed my way into the middle of the room. I could feel the eyes on me, the stranger amongst them all, but I didn’t falter in my strides, walking like I outranked them all, like I had important matter to attend to - though I actually had no idea where I was going or what I was doing.  
Despite my upturned nose and important air, I kept my eyes on the people I passed, scanning for a face that matched the picture in my head. When I finally neared the other side of the room my eyes fell on the large balcony lit with fairy lights. I headed for this.   
A group of 4 people entered back into the room as I left it, none of them bothering to hold the door open for me and I scowled out into the darkness at this - clearly manners did cost something, and these people weren’t willing to pay it.  
I was the only one out here now, and I understood why, the balcony had been built slightly into the building to lessen the strength of the wind at this height, but it was still freezing out here. I wrapped my arms around my chest against the cold and walked up to the railing, leaning my arms on it and looking out at the lights of the city. I could see the windows of office buildings where late night workers were still at their desks, the bright advertisement bill boards that stood tall and garish against the dark sky and the streets below were lined with tacky lit names of casinos and clubs.  
“Quite a view isn’t it?” Came a voice from behind me, the tone of the voice deep and soft.  
I played it cool, not bothering to turn, my eyes on the landscape before me. “Yes it is.” I agreed.  
The man came up next to me then, but I still didn’t bother to turn. He copied my position, leaning over and resting his elbows on the balcony railing. “Bit cold though isn’t? Especially in a dress like that.” He said, and I saw him glance me up and down.  
I turned to look at him now, crossing my arms and leaning my hip into the barrier, shooting him an unimpressed raised eyebrow at his last statement. The light behind the man threw his face into shadow, but the more I listened to his voice, the more familiar it was. “And just what is that supposed to mean, Mr Wayne?”  
“Oh nothing.” Bruce Wayne defended quickly, realising his mistake and turning to face me as well, “Only that your dress doesn’t really protect your arms against this wind.” He said gesturing to the sky.  
I laughed at how nervous I had made him – clearly, he wasn’t a man that was often poked fun at. “Don’t worry.” I brushed it off, “I’m only teasing.” I smirked, and he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m [Y/N].” I said, holding out a hand in a sign of peace.   
Bruce took it gratefully, “I guess you already know who I am.”  
His hand was strong, and surprisingly rough for a business man. “Of course, Mr Wayne.” I smiled at him warmly. He had a nice feel to him.  
“Call me Bruce.” He insisted.  
“Ok, Bruce.” I nodded, releasing his hand. “I do have to ask though, why are you out here, when the party is in there?” I asked, gesturing back towards the door.   
“Honestly I’m not one for parties…” He admitted rather sheepishly, “But it kind of comes with the job.”  
“Of being the owner of a multi-million-dollar company, or of being a billionaire bachelor?” I teased.  
“Both.” He laughed, and I laughed with him.  
“What about you?” He asked, “Parties your scene?”  
I considered this for a moment. “Not really.” I said truthfully. “I’m more of an all work, no play kinda gal.”  
“Might explain why I’ve never seen you around.” He said.  
I knew my lines well and didn’t even hesitated before I said, “Well I’m new to Gotham, first event I’ve been invited to.” I explained. “So, I appear to be the stranger that everyone gawks at.”  
“I’m sure that’s not the only reason they’re gawking.” Said Bruce and I couldn’t help but blush at his smooth flirtation.  
We chatted a bit longer about this and that. I stuck as close to the truth as possible, so I didn’t get too lost in a web of lies – I told him I ran a highly successful line of restaurants and was hoping to start one up on Gotham. He seemed genuinely interested and it almost made me feel bad. He seemed a nice bloke, but also quite simple. Getting information from him shouldn’t be too hard.  
It wasn’t long before he was offering his jacket for my shoulders – which I gratefully accepted – and then eventually he led me back to dance for a while – under the promise that it was to ‘warm up’.   
Bruce was such good company, in fact, that I almost forgot the reason I was there in the first place – happily chatting away about anything and everything – the things I didn’t need to lie about like my dream holiday, favourite colour and other silly details that we somehow got onto.  
Yes, I had almost forgot why I was at the party, that was until Bruce asked about my love-life. I was sure he was wondering if he could put the moves on me, but I was promptly reminded of J and the original plan for the evening. Shit. I muttered something about it being complicated – because it honestly was. I didn’t know what I was to J – a stress release? An easy fuck? Or something more? And I didn’t know what I was to J – did I love him? I felt like I could do, maybe, but did I right now? It was complicated.  
Bruce didn’t push the question any further, but now I had been reminded I changed my head back to business and knew I needed to start asking the man a few more specific questions I had runover with J earlier that day.  
“So, what –“  
Bruce glanced down at his watch that flashed something – maybe an alarm? Then snapped his gaze back to mine. “I’m really sorry, [Y/N], I hate to suddenly run, but I’ve got an important meeting in the morning that I need to be slightly coherent for.” Bruce said with a small apologetic smile.  
I smiled back in understanding at this, though inwardly I cursed at the shit timing and my lack of concentration on my job all evening. J wasn’t going to be impressed if I went back to him empty handed, especially when I made him fork out so much for this night. I had to pull this back somehow.  
“Bruce, I –“ I started.   
“Would it –“ Bruce said at the same time.  
“Sorry.” We both apologised, like a cheesy chick flick couple.  
I gestured at him, “Go for it.”  
“I just wanted to know if I’ll see you again soon?” Bruce asked, with a raised eyebrow.  
“Uh –“ That took me by surprise, “Yeah, sure. That would be nice.” That hadn’t even been a lie just to see him again to gain some information - it would actually be nice to see him again.  
He smiled at me, then glanced at his watch again. “Ok, now I really have to leave.” He said, though he seemed reluctant.  
“Go.” I said.  
He wavered.  
“Go!” I laughed, shoving at him playfully, and he exaggerated the movement, leaning further away from me than I could ever hope to have pushed him. I smirked at his good humour until he then swung back and planted a surprising kiss on my cheek.  
My eyes widened momentarily, but then I quickly gathered myself back together again. “Smooth.” I mocked with a smug smile. “Now go!” I cried with a laugh, shoving him again, making sure this time that I pushed him solidly in the back toward the exit.  
“Ok…” He sighed dramatically and headed off with a last wave in my direction.  
I gave him a small wave back, unable to help myself smiling after him. It was nice to talk to a guy that I wasn’t always trying to second guess the meaning behind his words or actions like I was with J. J never did anything without a reason. But Bruce was more of an open book - I doubted there was anything hidden behind what he did.


	21. Day 21 - Rogues x Bruce Wayne - The Great Christmas Trap Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this isn't my best writing, but I didn't have much time to write it today and I would have liked longer to think about it and mess around with my ideas a bit more - I wrote and edited it within about 3 hours - which for me is quick haha!

Bruce Wayne arrived on the scene moments after the alert was sent through to him. The whole place was abandoned as he had expected. That evening it had been reported to the GCPD that the carnival folk had been driven out of their homes in the wake of a number of the escapees from Arkham overrunning their camp.  
Bruce had jumped on the case straight away. It seemed like a good opportunity to gather most of them up and ship them back off to the Asylum – though Bruce knew he had to be careful – this many rogues was a dangerous combination and he would have to be cautious in the steps he made.   
But it did strike him as odd that the criminals would suddenly to gang up and work together. Something must have united them together for some reason.  
Brue had pulled the batmobile up outside the entrance to the carnival grounds and now jumped out, landing in a flurry of his cape. He looked around. No one appeared. Nothing happened. No trap was sprung.  
He scanned the area he could see, but there was no movement. He cautiously strode into the entrance, passing amongst the deserted rides and shut up food caravans.   
That was when he noticed it. A crude drawing of the bat symbol was scribbled over an admission board which had then been nailed to a vendor’s caravan. Beyond that he could see another sign stuck on a bumper car ride. It was the bat sign again, then ‘THIS WAY BATSY’ written crassly below it.  
He didn’t want to just walk into a trap, but it was the only hint towards where he would find the criminals. He followed the signs, which led to more signs and more signs pointing him the way, eventually ending at a haunted house - at least that’s what the sign next to it read. However, the actual building looked the exact opposite of a haunted house. In fact, it strongly resembled a giant advent calendar.  
He frowned in confusion at the building with a 24 ‘doors’ or though some of them clearly were real doors, and others not so much.  
Suddenly, as he surveyed them, the red door with number 1 on it swung open and Harley Quinn swaggered her way out with a largen grin on her face and a small pistol in her hand. “Hey there, Batsy!” She called excitedly, giving him a wave and skipping towards him, though making sure to stop just outside the range of his reach.  
He watched her every move, making sure to keep an eye on her gun. She noticed where his eyes continued to travel. “Oh, don’t worry about this!” She dismissed, lifting it up and swinging it in her hand, “It’s just to make sure you behave and don’t ruin the fun!” She exclaimed with a large grin.  
Bruce didn’t say anything, keeping his face unchanging from his dark expression.  
“Alright, party pooper!” Harley sulked when he wasn’t as excited as her.   
“Let’s get it started!” She suddenly declared with an evil, knowing look on her face. With that she strode back through door number 1, which promptly slammed shut behind her. Bruce heard the locking mechanism.  
So, he could follow her that way, but he would have to spend time picking the lock, or disabling the system if it was electronic - which it likely was. Or he could play their little game for now and go through the second door.  
He went for door number 2. But it wasn’t a real door. Neither was the third. Only when he tried the fourth door did it open. He warily stepped through, the door swinging shut behind him and the darkness covering him like a cloth. A tap on his sleeve activated the night vision lenses in his mask just as a punch went for his face. He managed to duck in time, but was then suddenly hit from behind which knocked him forward, making him stumble. Another punch landed directly in his stomach, winding him. He instinctively rolled away from the assault, buying him a few moments to gather himself and get a look around. His goggles could pick up outlines in the dark – 5 of them. People with odd shaped heads that tapered into points. Hats. Santa Hats.  
A laugh echoed out around him, and he spun round, the noise sounding right behind him, but then the laugh sounded again, seeming to encircle him and he recognised that is must be on the buildings intercom system. Happy that no one extra was in the room with him, he turned back to watch the advancing people, dodging their punches and taking one out with a well-aimed kick to the back of their legs, knocking them to the floor with a crack.  
“Good evening, Batman.” Greeted the gleeful voice over the speaker. Jervis Tetch. That explained the hats. “I see you met some of the lovely carny folk that work at this fine establishment!” He exclaimed excitedly, “I’m afraid they don’t take kindly to trespassers though – something we all found out – which is why they’re sporting these wonderfully festive hats! I’m afraid they’re not much to look at though – hence the lighting – but they do give a mean wallop!” Just at that, a fist rammed into Bruce’s jaw, snapping his head round. Tetch was trying to distract him, he had to try to tune him out and focus.  
So, as Jervis chattered on overhead, Bruce focused on the four remaining men. Jervis was right, they could hit with quite a bit of force and it wasn’t that much of a surprise when Bruce took into account the size of the signals coming up on his night camera – these men were huge blocks of muscle – they must be the bouncers of the carnival.  
Bruce managed to grab a hold of one of the hats, pulling it off the guy’s head leaving him stunned and confused, Bruce didn’t hesitate, sending a fist straight into the guy’s face to make sure he wasn’t going to think about coming after him again. He threw the hat aside and faced the last three  
It didn’t take long to take down the others – they were no match for Bruce’s skill and finesse and all ended up lying unconscious on the floor. Bruce removed all of the Santa hats in case any of them awoke and still had the urge to beat him to a pulp, gathering them into a heap on the floor.   
Suddenly the light’s overhead flickered on, making the room painfully bright and forcing Bruce to cover his eyes with his hand, quickly terminating the night vision.  
He blinked his vision back to normal as the speaker overhead crackled into life again. “Congrats, bats!” Cried Jervis, not sounding at all phased that his men had been beaten, “Move onto your next door.”  
Bruce hesitated a moment before he picked up the pile of Santa hats and left through the door opposite the one he had come into – this one reading number 7.  
The door pushed open easily and he stepped through into a large circular, empty room. The door behind him closed on his back once more, but this time the lights didn’t go out. He threw the Santa hats to the floor and took a better look around. The room wasn’t circular – in fact the only way he could describe it was a Tetradecagon – a 14-sided room – with every other wall panel being a door and the others floor to ceiling length mirrors.   
Suddenly, as though he had triggered something, the wall began to spin at a ridiculous pace before abruptly stopping again.  
Clearly, he had to pick a door. But what if he picked wrong? And what if he picked right?  
He headed for the door opposite him. He pulled at it and it opened with a twist of the handle, but it led directly into a brick wall.  
He went for the door to his right, but as the first door closed, the walls suddenly began to spin again blinding fast again, before coming to an abrupt halt. He thought better of trying the next door and went back to the previous one.  
It was no longer a brick wall, instead a thick vine snapped out of its hiding place and he dodged behind the door, slamming it back into place and forcing the plant back into its hole.  
Poison Ivy.  
Now he knew slightly what he was up against.  
Suddenly the walls span again. It seemed to be that every time he closed a door the room span and gave him a new door.   
He pulled the exact same door open a third time, but the exact same vine lashed back out at him. He repeated his previous movement, lunging behind the door and forcing it back into place – but the plant had learnt from last time, and tried to fight against the door being push at it and Bruce had to wrestle the vine back into its hole.  
So, the doors didn’t always change – this might be harder than he had initially anticipated. The room spun again, then stopped once more.  
Bruce chose a different door this time. The one two doors down on his left this time. He pulled it open. The wall again. This was going to slowly drive him insane. Maybe that was the plan.  
It felt like hours he was stuck in that room, pulling open random doors in frustration, the walls spinning and making him dizzy. It was only as he stood in the centre of the room, breathing heavily that he noticed something. The mirrors and the doors weren’t on the same spinning mechanism. The doors were slightly set back from the mirrors. The mirrors could spin separately from the doors, so the walls might spin, but the doors didn’t always.  
He threw a batarang at one of the identical doors and it landed heavily in the wood, firmly fixed. He then pulled open one of the doors behind him and a thorny vine whipped out at him alongside a large man-eating flower that also snapped at the air where he had been a moment ago. He shoved at the door, forcing it back inside and slamming it with such force that it broke some of the vines that didn’t get back inside in time.  
He heard a strangled cry from somewhere.  
The walls span again and he heard a snapping noise. The batrang had broken as the walls had spun. When the room stopped, he examined each door. There. That one had a small indent in it where the batrang had stuck - so this time the doors had spun as it wasn’t in the same place as last time.  
He began to pull them all open systematically, each time the walls spun, and sometimes the marked door moved, sometimes it didn’t. It allowed Bruce to work out where the next door to try was.  
On his 5th attempt he opened a door that led into a black box. All he could see was mistletoe growing around the doorframe and he was about to step into it when a pair of lips lunged at him and he dodged nimbly out of the way and back into the odd shaped room.  
“Aw, come on hun!” Sneered Ivy, “It’s Christmas…” She purred, “And we’re under the mistletoe… Don’t cha wanna give me a kiss…?” She pouted, her lips a deep red.  
Batman lunged at her to tackle her to the ground, but she suddenly disappeared upwards, a vine, he hadn’t noticed around her waist, pulling her up through a trap door in the little box of a room. The trap door slammed closed in his face as he watched her vanish. He punched it and shoved at it, but it was solid and locked down tightly. He growled in annoyance, but tehn turned his attention in front of him where he could vaguely make out a door thanks to the light coming in from the room of mirrors and doors. It read 13.  
He pushed this one open.  
When he stepped into the next room his feet nearly slipped out from beneath him. The floor was completely covered in ice.  
It was the largest room so far and the next door was clear on the other side of the room. But it was too easy to just have to skate across this layer of ice, surely?  
He took a step forward none the less. Nothing happened. He took another few steps, making his way to about a third of the way across the room before something happened. A pipe seemed to suddenly appear from a hatch in the wall in front of him on the right. Out from the pipe shot a short, rather square-looking, Penguin which dropped onto the ice. Another followed, and then another. A second hatched appeared on the wall opposite and more penguins fell onto the ice until there was at least 15 of them lined up in a row before him. A tiny army to stop his crossing, all – he now noticed – holding small Christmas presents.   
It had to be Oswald Cobblepot, but this couldn’t be it - there had to be something more to this than just the line of little metal penguins.  
“What you are thinking is correct, my mammalian friend.” Came the familiar of the voice over yet another intercom. “My acquaintances here are not alone, each has the joyful present of a small explosive – and, when I say small explosive - I mean enough to take off a limb or two.” Said the Penguin gleefully. “Enjoy getting to your next door.”  
The intercom buzzed off and then Bruce was left alone on the ice. He didn’t move, watching the Penguins carefully, trying to calculate what to do. Suddenly – most likely because Oswald had hit a button wherever he was – the penguins began to advance towards him. Bruce had to do something soon. He threw a batarang at one of them and it immediately exploded with a loud bang, shrapnel flying everywhere, and revealing a hole in the ice that led into a pool of water below.  
Bruce ran for the hole, his feet sliding away underneath him and hindering his progress, the penguins waddling furiously after his heat signal and he dived into the freezing water below. The penguins followed after him, plummeting into the water, their heavy metal exterior dragging them down, the contact with the water signalling for them to explode. They had sunk far enough that they didn’t do anything but slightly crack the ice above, but Bruce felt the sudden force of water pushed into him and had the weird feeling of intense heat and freezing water washing over him.  
He waited until the water had calmed again, the bubbles rising to the small air hole, and he then headed that way as well. He managed a gasp of air before something grabbed his ankle in a fierce grip and pulled him back under. Bubbles escaped from his mouth at the shock and he glanced down at his leg to see a scaly hand gripping him, the claws digging painfully into his leg. Below that he could see glowing golden eyes in the gloom of the water.  
Killer Croc.  
Bruce kicked at the leg, but the grip held tight. Instead of pulling away, Bruce turned and dove straight at the beast-man. He took Croc by surprise and managed to land a punch to the croc’s jaw - though it wasn’t nearly as strong as if he’d done it on land – the water pulling against his arm and slowing him down considerably.  
Crocs head still span to the side, but quickly twisted back with a snarl, his teeth snapping at Bruce’s hand which Bruce pulled back quickly. In his anger, Croc forgot to hold Bruce down and loosened his grip, both hands now clawing up to grab Bruce’s chest instead. Bruce made the most of his freedom and pushed himself back as far as he could, his lungs beginning to ache and strain. He swam desperately for the air pocket, catching site of a shadow above him on the ice. He propelled himself as quickly as possible through the water, launching himself onto the ice and scrambling out, his muscles stinging from the cold and his lungs aching painfully as he gasped in oxygen.   
Croc wasn’t far behind him even though Brue had rolled himself away from the ice hole, however, Croc was struggling with the frozen conditions, scrapping desperately at the ice as he attempted to climb out of the water after the batman, his slippery scales hindering him where his claws helped.  
Bruce half ran, half slid across the ice to the shadow he had seen, which had been Oswald Cobblepot who had come down from his hiding place to paw over the broken pieces of his inventions and to watch the rest of the show from the safety of the ice. Bruce now took him by surprise, knocking him off his stubby legs and shoving him towards the hole in the ice, directly at Croc who - in his surprise at the large man now skidding toward him – instinctively released the ice and grabbed at the man, sinking his claws into the fat little body and both of them falling through the ice.  
Bruce made the most of this window and darted for the door, throwing himself through it and slamming it behind him.  
His body shook with cold, and his lungs still stung painfully as he panted for air, but he didn’t have long to recover. Having run through the door numbered 19 he was in yet another dark room. There was a faint light coming from somewhere that bathed the room in shadows – though Bruce couldn’t make out where it came from.  
Something was dangling from the ceiling - they were vine like things with something larger hanging from them at the end, and he wondered if Ivy was back with more killer plants.  
But then a spotlight illuminated a single of these odd things hanging things. It was a puppet. An old fashion puppet on a string.  
Not just any puppet, but Scarface - Arnold Wesker’s beloved criminal puppet. Except he wasn’t in his usual smart suit and hat - he was dressed like Scrooge from A Christmas Carol in an old fashion Victorian nightgown and hat with a candle in his hand.  
“Bah Humbug!” He cried, suddenly lunging at Bruce and waving his candle in his face. He fell back to his position and burst into a cackling laughter. Bruce readied himself, not underestimating him, despite his apparent absence of his usual machine gun.  
“You’re just like me, Batman!” The dummy cried, “You’re an old Scrooge! Look at all of these guys trying to make your Christmas, and you couldn’t care less!” He laughed. “All a bunch of hum bug!” He cackled, doubling over in his laughter.  
What Bruce hadn’t realised - all his attention on the dummy in front of him - was that the other strings had crept closer to him, surrounding him and the puppets at the end of these ropes now lifted themselves upright, all armed with the weapons that Scarface wasn’t.   
Suddenly some movement caught Bruce’s eye and he realised what was happening a minute before they all lunged, immediately dropping to the floor as they threw knives at him, stabbed towards his body or let off shots from pistols.  
Dropping to the floor would only work that once though – Bruce now needed to think of a way out of here before they attacked again. He threw a batarang across one side of the room, cutting numerous strings sending some of the puppets hurtling to the ground, others now only hanging by one or two stings, making their aim more difficult, but only making them that more dangerous for Bruce.  
He glanced around for inspiration, then saw it. Arnold Wesker was controlling Scarface somehow – it must have been directly above the puppet.   
Bruce leapt to his feet and, pushing off from some of the puppet’s heads, he launched himself up into the rafters, finding an panel missing in the ceiling and grabbing at the edge, pulling himself up and into the ceiling as guns went off, narrowly avoiding them by kicking his legs out of the way just in time. The knives were also thrown, but they didn’t clear the ceiling, clattering to the floor below.  
He now found himself face to face with Arnold Wesker who was kneeling in the small space that was clearly being used as a tunnel network between the rooms. He used the edge of a batarang to cut the ropes leading to Scarface still below and Arnold gasped reaching out to stop him before collapsing back on his heels when the dummy fell to the floor below in a heap.  
“Here, cuff yourself.” Bruce said bluntly, throwing a pair of handcuffs at the pathetic man. They landed by the man’s knees, but Arnold didn’t argue, picking them up and slapping them on his own wrists.  
Without another word, Bruce remained crept down the hallway to the next ‘room’.   
He came across a man crouched in the shadows in front of him, peering down into the room below - clearly waiting for Bruce to come through the door and participate in the next challenge. Bruce snuck silently behind him and shot his hand out, grabbing the guy by the back of his neck and pinning him face down on the floor.  
The man burst into a harsh, high pitch cackle that Bruce knew all too well.  
“Batsy! I must say I’m impressed – I thought you’d take the door!” He giggled, “But I guess you’ve never been one to play by the rules!”  
Bruce pushed the Joker’s face further into the metal floor, but the Joker made not indication of the pain he felt. “I must say though, I’m also kind of sad – you missed my joke!” He cried, pointing down at the room below as well as he could in his position.  
Bruce didn’t want to take his eyes off the clown, but he glanced down to see four giant nutcracker dolls lined up, ready for him to walk through the door.  
The glance away was enough time for the Joker, who reached into his pocket in that split second and pulled out a can of something, twisting his wrist and pressing the trigger before Bruce could stop him.  
Silly string blinded Bruce for a second and the Joker managed to wiggle his way out of his grip. “Damn it, Harley!” He growled to himself. “It really is a shame though, batsy,” The Joker said, coming back to himself, somewhere in front of Bruce’s unseeing eyes, “They would have given you a good bruise and everything!” The Joker sulked, “Maybe even a souvenir scar to add to your collection!” He called as he ran off down the tunnel.  
Bruce finally cleared the horribly sticky string from his face, and then from his hands, but the Joker was long gone. So much for taking the tunnel the rest of the way - the Joker would warn anyone else ahead and they would form an ambush for him. He’d have to return to the rooms.  
He glanced down at the huge nutcrackers below him. Without the Joker controlling them, would they still work? Only one way to tell. He fell through the trap hole and landed heavily on two of them, toppling them to the floor.   
The others didn’t move. Their eyes were unnerving and seemed to follow him, but they made no move towards him, even as he backed away to the door numbered 24.  
The last door?  
He pulled it open and stepped into the next room, the door slamming shut behind him once again. The intercom over head buzzed. “Oo hoohoohoo!” Giggled the Joker’s voice, “This oughta be fun!” Bruce could practically hear the infamous grin.  
“Get out Clown, this is my room.” Came the voice of Edward Nygma.  
“Aww, come on, it’s the last room Eddie! Everyone’s gonna wanna watch – you better make it good!” The Joker cackled.  
“Oh, sure, because everyone else’s has worked so well.” Snapped the Riddler.  
“No need for the tone.” Snipped Oswald Cobblepot.  
“It’s not my fault Harley swapped my Joker Gas for Silly String!” Cried the Joker.  
“Can you all just shut up and get on with!” Barked Ivy.  
Silence fell amongst the men. “Fine.” Came a mutter, but Bruce couldn’t tell who it was.  
Bruce could almost feel the eyes on him. He took a few steps towards the unlabelled door on the other side of the room and walls suddenly erupted from either side, sliding along the floor and connecting with the other in the middle of the room, forming a very solid barrier to the door.  
“Merry Christmas, Batman.” Came Edward Nygma’s formal voice over the speaker. “I’m not going to over complicate this, like my colleagues.” He sneered, and it sounded like he had shot the other criminals with him a dirty look. “I’m keep it simple. You answer my riddle, you get to leave. You fail... and well… I have a man called Victor Zsasz here who I’m sure you are already well acquainted with… I’m sure he’d love to give you a very Merry Christmas.”  
“Now we know the rules…” He continued, “Let’s play!”  
“When does Christmas come before Thanksgiving?” He asked.  
Bruce thought about this for a moment. “When does Christmas come before Thanksgiving?” The Riddler asked again. “Come on now, Bats, this is easy.” He goaded.  
“In the dictionary.” Stated Bruce up at the ceiling.  
“Nice one, Batsy.” The Riddler commented, but laughed when Bruce looked at the moveable wall. “You didn’t honestly think it would be that simple a riddle, did you?! That was just a little warm up to see if you’re on your game.” He said, “Now it’s time for the real one.”  
“You are trapped in a room with no windows and - now - no doors.” Laughed the Riddler. “You have a knife and an orange.” These two items suddenly fell from the ceiling. “How do you escape?”  
Bruce was silent, but he walked up to the items, picking them both up, examining them and thinking.  
“What the hell is he on about?” Oswald muttered over the intercom.  
“Look at him!” Cried the Joker, “Batsy’s stuck!” He laughed.  
“Well no wonder!” Cried Ivy, “Eddie’s lost it – that’s impossible!”  
“Nothing is impossible, my dear” Said Jervis, though he didn’t sound completely confident.  
Suddenly Bruce took the knife and pierced the orange, cutting down the middle and splitting the fruit into two halves, placing them on the floor. “Half and half equals a whole.” Stated Bruce clearly, to the wall in front of him. “I can escape through a hole.”  
There was flickering of light and a live projection of the Riddler was shot onto the moveable wall. He gave Bruce a slow thumbs up and half a smile. “Congrats, bats.” He said, and the walls parted, revealing the door.   
Bruce strode towards the door, voices shouting behind him.  
“That was it?! He answers two bloody questions and you just let him go?!” Demanded Ivy hysterically.  
“Come on Pamela, there wasn’t any real point to this anyway.” Comforted Jervis.  
“I don’t care! You don’t give up a chance to get the bat!”  
“See this is why we don’t do these sorts of things.” Mutter Oswald.  
Bruce left them bickering and emerged out the exit of the building, back to exactly where he had started, staring up at the revamped Haunted House.  
Harley stepped out after him as though she’d been behind him the whole time. “Don’t worry, Batsy,” She smiled, “We’ll put everything back to normal for tomorrow!”  
He stared at her for a moment before he turned to walk back to the batmobile. He believed her that this was just a one off and it sounded like they would punish themselves now – fighting over the best way to take out the Batman.  
“Merry Christmas, Batsy!” Harley waved happily at his retreating figure. He glanced back slightly as he walked and lifted a hand in return.


	22. Day 22 - Joker x Reader - Christmas Hatred Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I wasn't sure what i was writing for this one and so it's quite out of character and quite fluffy... so ... yeah... sorry..?  
> Hope you enjoy anyway!

[Y/N] felt like she ought to get the Joker back for suggesting the whole ice skating fiasco, but she couldn’t think of anything clever to suggest – everything she could think of would be painful for him – but it would also be painful for her as she had to do it as well. Why put herself through it?   
So, instead, they ended up wandering quietly through the streets, both cringing away at the carol singers crying out the usual cliché tunes, and wincing at the horribly tacky Christmas displays in the large department store windows.  
“I know why I don’t like Christmas.” [Y/N] stated. “But why do you hate it?”  
The Joker glanced at her with a raised eyebrow and she suddenly remembered who she was talking to – and how stupid a question that was. “Right – yeah – psychotic murderer. I remember.” She muttered, more to herself than to him  
The Joker let out a bark of laughter at it none the less and [Y/N] couldn’t help but smirk.  
“So why do you hate it then, doll…” The Joker broached, though he kept his gaze ahead of them.  
[Y/N] wondered whether she should answer that or just tell him to keep his nose out of her business. She was silent for a while as she thought this through. “It’s a long story.” She eventually said. “A long, complicated story.” She sighed, shaking her head up at the dark cloudy sky.  
“Say no more…” The Joker growled lowly, “I get those.” And he didn’t push the subject any further. [Y/N] almost smiled – few people would just let her drop the subject like that – it was nice. Almost like he understood.  
“Ok, doll.” The Joker finally said, stopping in the middle of the street, and pulling her to a halt next to him. “How ‘bout we call this quits – unless of course you want to go sit on Santa’s lap or something?”  
“I think that would be excruciatingly painful for both of us.” [Y/N] joked.  
“Hasn’t this whole evening been, kitten?” He countered.  
“I dunno – I thought you looked quite happy out on that ice.” [Y/N] grinned.  
“Only because I was too busy laughing at you, doll, to take notice of anything else.”  
[Y/N] scowled at the memory. “Thanks.” She muttered.  
There was a moment of awkward silence – at least it was awkward for [Y/N]. “Uh – well then –“ She stuck her hand out to him, “Thanks for the clothes and what not - and – I guess – this.” She said gesturing around.  
The Joker looked at her hand then at her with his raised eyebrow again. “Oh, doll, if you think you’re getting away that easily, think again…” He growled.  
“What?!” I asked, surprised, “But you just said –“  
“I said, we should call this,” He copied her gesture to their surroundings, “quits, not this.” He now gestured between them. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, princess.”  
[Y/N] was looking at him in bewilderment when a car suddenly pulled up beside them. “This is us, doll.” The Joker grinned from beneath the shadow of his disguise. [Y/N] looked over at the car with wide eyes, and then to the hand the Joker was offering her. She didn’t move, her mind desperately flashing for any excuse but all it seem to keep coming up with was a cycle of ‘What?!’ and ‘No!’.  
“You know, doll, if you don’t come willingly, there are other ways to make you get in the car….” He drawled. He didn’t reach for his gun this time, clearly not thinking he needed to, but [Y/N] remembered it well and that it was hidden in one of his coat pockets.  
She didn’t take his hand – keeping her pride – and instead, marched past him to the car on her own. The same man who had driven them earlier this night suddenly appeared at her side, opening the door for her. She could see no other option and only faltered slightly before she slipped into the car. The Joker had strode to the other side and now slid in next to her.  
As soon as he was out of sight in the car, the Joker took his hat off and threw it into the back of the car, then shuffled out of the long overcoat. Suddenly [Y/N] found herself face to face with the full Joker again – makeup and all. It was terrifying, and she immediately tensed at his bright green hair, alabaster skin and bright red lips. She had almost been getting use to the criminal that she had been hanging around with for the last few hours, now she felt a fresh wave of fear run over her.  
The Joker didn’t seem to notice her sudden change in behaviour – or if he did – he probably put it down to nerves and her lack of cooperation previously.   
[Y/N] wasn’t sure how the Joker had even managed to call the car – she had never seen him on a phone. She also wasn’t sure how the driver knew where to go, as the Joker had never given him any directions either. That didn’t seem to faze the driver who carried on through the night and – by the looks of the slow reduction in the number of lights outside her window - out of the town.  
Was it going to be like one of those cheesy crime movies where the killer drives the body out of town to bury it? But [Y/N] wasn’t dead. Yet. And the Joker struck her as someone who would have someone bury his bodies for him.  
All these ridiculous ideas and counteractions ricochet in [Y/N]’s head as she stared out the window, trying not to look at the Joker too much, or get too close to him. He suddenly felt like a completely different man to the guy she had spent her evening with.  
Both of them were silent the entire drive – which seemed far too long and far too short at the same time – [Y/N] didn’t want to be in this car anymore, but she also didn’t want to stop and have to talk to the Joker again.  
When the car did finally pull up, the Joker got out immediately, whilst [Y/N] hesitated once more, until the driver opened her door again and a white hand appeared in front of her face. She faltered only for a moment before she took it this time and was pulled out of the car.  
They appeared to be out of the city now - on one of the hills that was a backdrop to Gotham and largely covered in wilderness. Why on Earth were they all the way out here?  
The Joker had released her hand now, and had begun to walk up a gravelly track which curved out of sight. [Y/N] glanced back at the driver who was now returning to his seat, before she followed after the criminal. She soon realised the track she was walking up was in fact a driveway. It led up to a large, intimidating, but beautiful log cabin. Log cabin didn’t really seem to suffice for this building though as there wasn’t nothing small or primal about it – it looked like a wooden mansion.  
“What is this?” [Y/N] breathed, gazing up at the pristine logs that made up the walls, the wooden door, and windows complete with shutters. The Joker didn’t say anything – whether he was ignoring her or didn’t hear her, she wasn’t sure – instead he walked up the steps to the porch and opened the front door without the need for key.  
[Y/N] paused for a moment, could she make a run for it? This had horror story written all over it. Quiet cabin in the middle of woods, no one else in sight. She could run, but she had no idea where she was or where to go. The Joker knew where she lived after all, so that was a no go. He always probably knew these woods far better than she did. And he had a gun. No, maybe she should run.  
Instead, she followed him into the house, trying to remember the guy she had spent the evening with – the guy she had almost kind of liked that guy – and not the criminal striding in front of her.  
When [Y/N] stepped through the front door that the Joker had left opened, she stepped into a large open plan living space. On her right was a set of large, cushiony sofas arranged around a huge stone fireplace which already had a roaring fire. Beyond that, the floor was raised and let to a table and chairs that sat in front of a wall of floor to ceiling windows that let in the night from outside. [Y/N] could just make out a stone archway next to this area that must lead to a kitchen.  
“Wow.” [Y/N] breathed out, no more than a whisper, as she gazed around in awe. She was fighting the urge to run around and explore the amazing house, the large staircase on her left calling her to it. But instead, she turned her attention back towards the criminal who was walking across the room.  
The Joker stopped in the centre of the room and turned to where [Y/N] still stood in the doorway. “You can come in, doll.” He beckoned. [Y/N] shut the door behind her and stepped warily into the room.  
“Is this your house then?” She asked cautiously, not able to make eye contact with the man.  
“One of them.” He answered and [Y/N] nodded along with this like it was completely normal to have multiple houses and not just a dingy flat like she had.  
“Just you?” She asked, intrigued.  
He eyed her for a moment. “Most of the time.” She wasn’t sure what to make of that – did he mean he had his henchmen with him sometimes, or did he mean girls? And why did she care?  
She was near the centre of the room where he was still waiting, but [Y/N] didn’t look at him – staring into the fire instead, as though the flames were far more interesting.  
“You can’t look at me, can you, doll?” He asked, and his voice sounded like he was grinning.  
“I can.” [Y/N] protested, though she didn’t take her eyes from the fire – it was easier when she wasn’t looking at him to remember that he was the same guy from earlier.  
“Then do.” He growled, and his tone sent a chill of fear through [Y/N]. She turned towards him, her eyes level with his throat.  
“See.” She muttered at his Adam’s apple.  
His hand suddenly gripped her chin and lifted her gaze up so she was forced to meet his eyes. [Y/N] caught his gaze for a split second before she dropped her eyes down to anywhere but his eyes.  
“Doll…” The Joker growled, and [Y/N] felt his fingers tighten on her chin. She reluctantly raised her eyes again, meeting his vibrant blue ones. “Better.” He grinned devilishly.  
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at this and he cackled at her before he suddenly stopped, as though he’d seen something in her eyes.  
“You’re scared of me, aren’t you, doll?” He asked, a twinkle in his eyes.  
[Y/N] frowned at him. “Of course, I am! Anyone in their right mind would be! I know who you are!”  
“Ah, ah, ah, doll.” He tutted, wagging a free finger at her, “I know when people are truly afraid of me – and you haven’t been for most of the evening…” he growled, “But now you are…”  
[Y/N] felt herself swallow thickly. The Joker’s voice was low and gravely, but seemed to be almost seductive to her ears. She was tense in his grip, but his eyes still seemed to be turning her to liquid.  
“Why am I here?” She suddenly asked.  
The Joker seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Well… Doll… I don’t know about you…” He purred looking her piercingly in the eyes, “But I needed a drink after all that ‘Christmas Spirit’.” He said, with a slow grin. He then released her walked over to what she now realised was a fold-away bar behind the sofas.  
“Ok…” [Y/N] said, nodding along with this, “But why back here?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.  
He turned to her again, “Come on kitten…” He purred, “Did you really want to sit in a heavily festively decorated bar with their cringey music?”  
[Y/N] made a face at the idea and the Joker smirked. He handed her a tumbler of an amber alcohol and she took it despite her apprehensions. “Thanks.” She murmured sheepishly, keeping her eyes on the liquid in the glass rather than him as he poured himself one too.  
She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as he walked back towards her, and she twisted from side to side with nerves. He tossed down his drink in one gulp, throwing his head back, then placed the glass on a nearby coffee table. [Y/N] followed suit.  
His eyes turned back on her then, where he could now clearly see how wound up she was. “Relax, doll…” He purred, his hands moving towards her. She had to stop herself flinching, but he simply unzipped the coat she still wore, pushing it off her shoulders and then throwing it over the back of the sofa next to them. “That’s better…” He growled, his eyes roaming her up and down and she could feel herself go stiff under his gaze.   
His hand moved back towards her then, but this time he reached for her wrist, easily encircling it with his hand. He pulled at her and she had no choice but to follow him as he headed through the house with her in tow, her heart race increasing with each step.  
They headed through the dining area to the large windows where he hit a switch on the wall, and the window frames began to fold up one on top of the other, sliding to the left and revealing a veranda in front of them.   
He pulled [Y/N] through and took her towards the edge. Her nerves were on high alert now – what was he going to do?!  
He pulled her to a stop so they face each other. The wind whipped around them, and she wondered why he’d taken her coat off. He grabbed for her other wrist to stop any attempt at moving away from him. [Y/N] struggled in his grip, beginning to panic.  
He growled in annoyance as he wrestled her arms down, his grip like iron cuffs, forcing her to stop. “Kitten…” He snarled through clenched teeth. “Stop fighting me, or you’ll regret it.” [Y/N] believed him and she went limp in his hands, dropping her eyes to her feet in defeat. He was right – she was only going to make it even worse by annoying him.  
The Joker made a noise in his throat, and she snapped her eyes back to his. “Better.” He praised, then he did something unexpected, releasing [Y/N] hands and stepping behind her, laying his hands gently, yet firmly, on her upper arms instead.  
She felt the muscles under his touch tense. “Now, doll, clearly, you’re not used to the look of me - but you are used to my voice – so let’s work with that.” He purred in her ear. [Y/N] swallowed against her fear, but he was right - his voice didn’t scare her anymore – if anything it was soothing – it was his appearance that sharply reminded her who he was.  
The Joker’s hands began to track up her arm to her neck, lingering there as he leant down and breathed in her scent, making her shiver from more than just the cold. His hands then continued up to her face, over her cheeks until they finally slid over her eyes and remained there.   
[Y/N] could feel herself stiffen again. The Joker steered her around, so she now must be facing out over the view from the terrace. “What are you doing?” She asked desperately, her voice shaking.  
“Even you, princess, can’t deny there is a certain…beauty… to Christmas lights.” He purred in her ear. “Personally, I don’t like the crowds and noise that come with it…” He growled, and his breath tickled her skin, “So I have this, instead.” He then removed his hands from her eyes and she could suddenly see the view before her.  
It was beautiful.   
From this distance and height [Y/N] could see nearly the whole of the city of Gotham before her in a stunning panoramic - and all the lights that came with it against the black night.  
She could feel her mouth hanging open slightly at the sight and she made no protest when the Joker’s hands dropped to her hips, and then shifted up, his arms encircling her waist and pulling her back against him.   
Every fear she had about him seemed to vanish in that perfect moment – like smoke into the night. She was being silly. The Joker had done nothing all night to hurt her, showed no inclination to cause her any harm. In fact, everything he’d done had been surprisingly sweet.  
“Maybe Christmas isn’t so bad after all.” [Y/N] murmured, tilting her head to look at the Joker behind her. He gave her a sinful grin and then lowered his head to hers, but it was her that closed the distance between their lips.


	23. Day 23 - Joker x Reader - Deadly Voice Christmas Edition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so for those that don't know, this is sort of a throw back to my very first series I wrote called Deadly Voice. It's kind of a Christmas Epilogue type thing - though I'm not sure how in keeping with the characters it is so I apologise for that.  
> For those that don't know the original series I am sure you can easily read this as a one shot really.
> 
> Now this is the second to last edition of this advent calendar series = tomorrow it the last one. So Happy Christmas eve eve (or if you dont celebrate christmas - then happy normal eve?)

This was my first Christmas with J. I’d been with him for nearly 6 months now and I still couldn’t quite believe it. My club was thriving like it always had – and even more now thanks to a few odd inputs from J. I didn’t do everything he said – I didn’t want to give him that much power – but some of them were too good for me to turn down.  
Our relationship was thriving too. There were a few odd things that J would do that reminded me that he was still the Joker – the insane criminal escapee from Arkham Asylum - but most of the time he treated me like the princess he often called me. I never knew how much I had wanted it till now – I couldn’t imagine not having J around - as hard as it had been to accept that he could possibly like me in the first place – that he could possibly be capable of love.  
Because that’s what I was sure it was now – love. He had never said it to me, but I knew I loved him and I kinda hoped he loved me back – and I figured he did – he just wasn’t one to say it.   
Something he didn’t seem to love though, was Christmas. Which was understandable – he was a crime lord and a gangster – loving Christmas didn’t really go with that package - but it did disappoint me just because I adored the festive season.  
I didn’t complain though – he had the right to hate the holiday if he wanted to, and I didn’t push him to do anything he didn’t want to – so we compromised, he’d refused to go out and do anything Christmassy, but he’d happily let me snuggle into his chest whilst we watch Christmas movies, and he even helped me decorate the club – after hours when it was empty, of course.  
J had one rule for the decorating though. He was allowed as much mistletoe as he deemed fit and was allowed to decide where it went around the club and mansion. I didn’t have any problem with this – though it certainly was distracting to keep finding J’s lips on mine – a distraction I didn’t mind, but it never finished with only a kiss and it sure did waste a lot of my time.

“Doll…” J drawled in greeting stepping into my office where I sat writing Christmas cards for the staff.  
“J…” I mimicked him, glancing up and seeing him prowl towards me. I glanced around – there wasn’t any mistletoe around that I had missed, was there? - I thought I’d made sure there wasn’t any in here. “What…?” I asked warily at the way he was looking at me.  
“Oh, nothing, doll…” He purred, perching on the side of my desk and watching me.   
This was disconcerting, and I put my pen down, properly facing him. “What do you want, J?” I asked in exasperation at his allusiveness.  
He looked around in fake shock, his hand to his red lips. “Can’t a guy just pay his girl a visit at her work, doll?” he asked innocently.  
“He can.” I enthused, “But, he usually doesn’t unless he wants something.” I pointed out.  
He dropped his charade, now a bored expression on his face. “Alright, princess, you got me.” He surrendered. “We’re going out.” There was no question of if I wanted to, if I had time, if I could leave my work - it was just we were going out.  
“Right now?” I asked in surprise.  
He shot me a look which clearly said why-would-you-even-ask-that. I rolled my eyes at him. “J, I’m working.” I said, gesturing to cards laid out before me.  
He growled, “I’d hardly call that work, doll….” I sighed loudly at his behaviour. As much as I loved his spontaneity, it did get in the way of my work sometimes.  
“J, I can’t, I’ve got so much-“  
“I’m asking nicely, doll.” He growled, and I stopped. He wasn’t going to play his big bad criminal card, was he? Ridiculous. He did this – depending on his mood - one minute he’d be professing how’d he never hurt me, the next he’d be threatening me if I didn’t do what he wanted. The problem was I still wasn’t wholly sure which side to believe.  
I had found a way around this out of pure experimentation, though. I stood up smoothly from my chair and moving around the desk, and stepped behind him, leaning into his back and wrapping my arms over his shoulders and round his necks, pulling him back into me and resting my cheek against his. “Better?” I asked.  
He grumbled something but gave a slight nod against my skin. I turned my head and kissed his cheek, but he wasn’t letting me off that easy and turned his head, meeting my lips with his. It didn’t take long for me to get lost in his taste and the movement of his mouth on mine. My last coherent though was whether I was sure there was no mistletoe in the room.  
Eventually I pulled away for air and he was smiling sinfully at my flushed face.   
“Ok, what do you really want?” I panted, my arms still around his shoulders.  
“Like I said, kitten…” He purred, “I want us to go out…Although…” He tapped his chin thoughtfully and leant towards me again, his face inches from my, though this time he made sure his lips didn’t quite touch mine, “Now we’ve started… I wouldn’t mind staying in…” He growled seductively, his breath brushing against my lips and I licked them self-consciously.  
“Uh, uh!” I said, coming back to myself and pulling away. “Nope. Not going to happen. You don’t get a reward for being an ass.”  
“So, we’re calling it a reward now are we, doll…?” He grinned devilishly. “And just who’s reward would it be?” He asked with a sly look, “Because I’m pretty sure you enjoy it too, princess…”  
I could feel myself blush. “That’s not my point.” I said quickly. “Why do you want to go out so badly anyway?” I asked trying to change the subject.  
The Joker eyed me for a moment, knowing what I was trying to do, but let it slide anyway. “Because, doll, all this Christmas cheer is slowly driving me insane.” He growled.  
I opened my mouth to comment on his general insanity anyway, but he shot me glare that told he knew what I was going to say, and I shouldn’t. I bit my lip to stop myself laughing.   
He raised an eyebrow at me, unimpressed – though I knew he didn’t really mean it. I swallowed my humour. “So, you think going out is going to do something about all this ‘suffocating’ Christmas cheer?” I asked disbelievingly.   
He suddenly gave me a wide grin as though I had asked exactly the right question. “No, doll… I think causing some trouble is…” He beamed.  
Uh oh. Ever since the whole Penguin incidence all those months ago, J had rarely invited me to any of his ‘trouble making sessions’ as I often referred to them. I generally ignored it when he vanished for the night as long as he was there in the morning. I did find myself worrying if he’d come back this time, or if he was getting injured, but I’d tried not to think about what he was doing. That was him and his life and there was nothing I could do to change it.  
But I didn’t participate. I’d made it a rule. We’d cause trouble sometimes – low key trouble – but I’d never go as far as a heist or anything that far outside of the law. It was hard to be good around J, he just brought out the rebellious side of you.  
I pulled away from his back and swung around to face him, my arms still wrapped around his neck. “Really?” I asked, unenthusiastically, “At Christmas?”  
“That’s the whole reason I want to do it, doll.”  
I looked at him, really not sure about this. “Can’t you just go cause trouble on your own?” I asked, desperately.  
He stood up, my arms still hung around him. “Now, doll…” He said seriously, putting his hands on my hips and pulling me closer. He bent his head, trailing his lips along my jaw, then brushing them lightly against my lips, “What fun would that be, hmm?” He breathed against my mouth. I had closed my eyes at the sensation, but I forced them open again now to try to bring myself back to Earth.  
I released my arms from around his neck and stepped back, though he kept a firm hold on my hips. “What is this going to entail?” I asked suspiciously, feeling my resolve crumbling.  
He grinned at me, “I was just going to roll with it.” He said with a shrug.  
I’m still not sure how we ended up in the giant toy store, but here we were. I had no idea what J planned – despite what he about rolling with, I was almost certain he had some idea why we were here – but he dragged me after him into the huge department-store-sized toy-shop, causing a few people to scream and make a run for the exit behind us.  
I tried to tell him before we left that he ought to disguise himself as he had insisted on doing this in the middle of the day, but he had outright refused, “Come on, kitten, now that wouldn’t be any fun!” He had grinned at my attempt of logic. That was always his response when I tried to talk sense into any of his plans – ‘Where was the fun in it?’ Personally, I wasn’t looking at the fun side of it, I was looking at the practical, try-not-to-get-caught, side of it.   
But now as people screamed and shouted as they ran past us I couldn’t help thinking this was all going to end in disaster – J might know his capabilities to escape, but did he know how much I was going to weigh him down? I was starting to panic and really wished I hadn’t agreed to this.  
The Joker towed me towards the back of the shop. “What about security cameras, J?” I asked, anxiously.  
“It’ll be fine, doll.” He muttered back.  
“But, J, unlike you – I don’t have a criminal record – and I have the reputation for my business to uphold.” I said desperately, pulling on the hand that was dragging me along.  
He glanced back at me, “Fine, I’ll deal with them later.” He relented, “but – for the record doll,” he murmured into my ear, “a bad reputation might do your business some good.” He grinned. Yes, I remembered this suggestion from a few months ago when he tried to convince me to join him on another one of his trouble-making schemes. I had told him then that my club was doing extremely well with my reputation as it was and turned his offer down flat, despite his persuasive methods. So why had I given in this time? I guess because it was Christmas?  
J continued to drag me along, but now he had reassured me about the security cameras, I decided I would stop trying to resist him and walk with a bit more confidence behind him.  
“What are we doing?” I asked, almost giddy when he finally pulled me to a stop near the back of the shop, next to a huge pile of teddy bears – the adrenaline and excitement of what might happen was starting to build up within me.  
“Whatever you want, princess!” J cried recklessly, his madness shining through his wide grin. I couldn’t help laughing – his energy infectious.  
So, we did whatever we wanted.   
It was nice to let go and be a bit rebellious – even felt healthy. J ran up one of the aisles and grabbed a baseball bat, tossing balls up in the air and cracking them down the aisle so I had to dive behind the end shelves to avoid them. He swung crazily, missing a few, but sending most of them soaring across the store - I’m pretty sure he broke a window.  
After he became bored of that, I followed J as he ran off to another row of shelves a few aisles down which was full of dolls. “Did you ever play with dolls, doll?” J asked, turning to me.  
I smirked at his joke, but I nodded, watching him with intrigue as to what he was going to do now. He grinned at my answer and scoped up a pristine doll in its casing. “You can do the honours then, kitten.” He grinned, handing over the doll. I took it from him, but frowned at it in confusion.  
“What am I supposed to do with it?” I asked lamely.  
“What ever you like, doll.” J said lazily, grinning like the mad man he was. I looked at the doll for a while, thinking and studying the packaging and the toy within. It wasn’t exactly like what I used to have when I was younger, but it was similar enough to do. I ripped open the packaging and pulled the doll out and, without hesitation, I wrenched the head of the doll, creating a satisfying pop.  
Take that all those bloody girl stereotypes forced down my throat when I was a kid.  
The Joker burst into laughter at the result of my fury, soon following my suit and ripping apart other dolls alongside me. I was soon grinning wildly at the sheer freedom of the destruction.  
When a pile of headless dolls was left on the floor we ran off to another aisle. As we ran, J grabbed a big barrel of marbles and sent it spinning down an isle on our right. As I ran past, I glanced down the aisle and saw two security guard’s feet sliding out from underneath them as they stepped on the tiny smooth balls. I couldn’t help but laugh at the site, giddy with the adrenaline and recklessness mixing within me.  
J took a sharp turn to the left again after another few aisles and I skidded to a halt next to him where he stood before racks on racks of children’s bikes all of varying size and colour. We weren’t alone in this aisle, some children and parents surveying the choice, but they immediately looked up when we had careened around the corner, and as soon as they recognised the familiar pale skin and green hair they fled the opposite direction.  
J didn’t take any notice of this, hauling off a bike from one of the racks. “Choose your weapon, doll.” He grinned over at me as he lifted down a tiny tricycle. I grinned back and stared at my options for a while till I grabbed a bright yellow bike with go faster flames. I struggled to lift it off, but managed to wrestle it down and followed after J who truly looked like a clown on the tiny bike, his knees up around his chin.  
We cycled down several lanes of shelves until J suddenly he skipped to a stop in front of me near the end of the isle, listening to something. I stopped next to him, watching his intense face, but I couldn’t hear anything. Suddenly there was a thud behind us like something heavy falling to the floor and I glanced behind us where I thought it had come from, but I saw nothing.  
That didn’t reassure me.   
“Come on, doll.” J was suddenly off his bike and at my side with a wild grin, “We’ve got to go.” He grabbed my hand and tugged me down the aisle. We ran to the front door, but someone had locked and barred it to stop out escape. Shit.  
I heard another noise – like something flapping behind us and spun around, searching for something that could make that noise. Nothing again. This was starting to feel like a horror movie and I was glad J was still holding on to me. I could feel everything in me tense and my heart was in my throat, beating rapidly.  
“J…?” I asked, scared and gripping his hand tightly, my high from a few seconds ago now long gone.  
J didn’t say anything, but reached into the pocket of his jacket and threw something up onto the top of the aisle where I thought I had saw a flash of movement a moment ago. It clanked when it bounced and then emitted a puff of purple smoke which expanded. Before I had time to watch the effect, J had pulled me away back down an aisle, dashing through the now-heavy fog which was settling around.  
We wove in and out of isles, clearly trying to avoid someone or something. I was out of breath, but I didn’t dare to falter or slow. Suddenly J pulled me to a stop close to him and pressed tightly to a shelving unit of Lego toys. “Do you still have your gun on you, doll?” He demanded.  
I pulled it out of my pocket to show him - I had taken it down from its proud position on the wall of the club where it usually hung, to bring with me – just in case. “Good girl. We might need it.” He grinned, though he didn’t look as relaxed as he was earlier. The fact that he had asked for the gun didn’t comfort me in the slightest and I checked that it was loaded, and the safety still on.  
J peered round the end of the aisle, looking both ways until his gaze stopped on something. “Come on, doll.” He growled, tugging me forward again. We headed for the far-left hand side of the store where people hadn’t realised what was going on in the rest of the store. Over head a large sign read SANTA’S GROTTO.  
We approached an area that was sectioned off with a red rope wrapped in golden tinsel, behind which a line of kids wove snake like back and forth, leading into a plastic gingerbread house with a banner over the door declaring it to be ‘Santa’s Grotto’. J pulled me around the back of the building, making sure to stay out of sight this time.  
I don’t know how J knew the back of that little plastic house wouldn’t be yet another wall of plastic, but instead it was made of a black background curtain. J led me up to a parting in it and I watched as he peered through to the scene inside. He waited a few moments, whilst I remained silent beside him, my heart still racing and far too loud. He must have seen something he had been waiting for because he suddenly disappeared inside, releasing my hand and leaving me outside without a signal, so I thought it best to remain outside where he had left me.  
J reappeared a few minutes later a pile of fabric in his arms.   
“What on Earth are you doing?” I hissed.  
“Get dressed.” Was all he said, shoving the material at me.  
“What are you on about?!” I demanded but took the clothes anyway, looking at the green material in confusion.  
“Run with it doll – fun, remember?” He said with a grin, lifting his pile of clothes into the air which looked to be predominantly red.   
I didn’t like where this was going.

It turned out that J had waited until the next child had left their meeting with Santa, and had then snuck in and held both Santa and his helper at gun point requiring them to hand over their costumes or else.   
So now me and J were in said costumes, and doing our best to fulfil our roles, however - despite J’s usually smiley personality - he didn’t seem to be relishing his role.  
“You’re supposed to be jolly.” I whispered at him as the next child climbed into his lap. He shot me a dark look at this and I couldn’t help but grin back at him.  
He asked the kids the question of what they wanted like I told him to, but his answers were less than enthusiastic and often quite cynical. I had to hold back my giggles – seeing him like that was hilarious and I wish I could take a picture - but I wasn’t sure he’d be particularly happy about that.  
We’d probably had about 6 children visit us before the small doorway to the gingerbread house was shrouded in darkness. I felt myself cower away from the sudden looming figure that cast a shadow over the cheerful environment. When I glanced out of the corner of my eye at J, he looked completely unaffected, like he hadn’t even noticed the new presence.  
I didn’t know what the dark figure was for a moment, until it stepped into the light and I saw the tipped cowl and the plated armour. The allusive Dark Knight.  
I felt my throat close up. It all made sense to me now and I just hoped J’s disguise fooled the bat. Somehow, during our run to the grotto, J had manged to make sure we ran past the dress-up section of the store and had slipped some tacky make-up and false lenses into his pocket. Once dressed, we had rapidly applied it in an attempt to tan his skin as much as we could, and the lenses had now turned his usual icy blue eyes to a warm hazel. I hoped it would be enough as the beard covered most of his face anyway and any trace of green hair was hidden under the white wig which was attached to the Santa hat.  
I watched the Batman, barely blinking. His eyes scanned over me, but saw nothing of interest and he moved onto J, who still had a young girl sat on his lap. He was joking with her and hohoho-ing away with the little girl who was thankfully laughing as he bounced her on his knee. He looked nothing like my J.  
The Dark knight stopped directly in front of them and J’s smile fell from his face like any normal person. He stopped bouncing the girl and eyed the man in awe. God, he was a good actor. The little girl turned to see where Santa was looking, and her eyes widened in fear at the shadowy figure and she looked like she was about to cry. The Knight lingered only a moment longer before he moved on from the house.  
I breathed a sigh of relief and immediately wanted to go to J, but when I met his eyes, they told me not to. We carried on with charade for the next few children who J tried his best with. Finally, he seemed content that he was safe, and he sent the last child packing, ripping the hat and beard from his face as soon as the door had closed on them.  
I let out a shaky, quiet laugh and let myself slide onto the floor, my legs too weak to hold me up any longer. “I am never doing that again.” I breathed at the floor, my head in my hands.  
The Joker let out a laugh at the site of me having a minor panic attack on the floor and I shot him a death glare. J rubbed at the makeup on his face with the Santa hat still in his hands, removing most of it, though he still had some orange smudges around his jaw and eyes. He shed the rest of the oversized Santa costume, still in his shirt and trousers underneath. Unfortunately for me I had to completely change out of the elf outfit into my own clothes, thanks to it being so tight-fitting and I almost felt sorry for the girl J had robbed it from.   
“Why did you hide?” I asked suddenly, standing upright after pulling on my last show. It had been bugging me and I had to ask. J turned to me, halfway through removing the contact lenses in his eyes so he had one brown and one blue iris.   
“What, doll?” He asked.  
“The Batman.” I clarified, “Don’t you usually play with him - toy with him – try to one up him in a sudden confrontation?” I tried to explain.  
“Usually.” He muttered, uninterested.   
“So, why didn’t you just then?” I asked, “You had a perfect opportunity!”  
“Because you were a few metres away, doll.” He growled as those this was an obvious explanation. I frowned at him and he sighed. “Batsy has one rule only. He can’t bring himself to kill – but he will do everything else – including using you, kitten.” J told me stepping up to me with his mis-matched eyes. I looked into his face and it looked vulnerable like I hadn’t seen it for ages.   
“I know I can get hurt doll, and I know I can get away…” He growled darkly, “But I don’t know that I can get you out, and I definitely can’t see you hurt or taken away from me…” He snarled fiercely down at his hands which he clenched into fists around the Santa Hat he still held. I could almost see him picturing it in his mind. It both filled me with love that he felt that much about my welfare, but also hurt me that he was feeling that much pain over me.   
I stepped forward, closing the distance between us and reaching for his fists, cupping my hands over them. “Hey.” I said, and I noticed J look up at me, though I kept my eyes on our hands together. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said, lifting my gaze to his. “I promise.” I said looking directly into his odd eyes.  
The Joker’s face erupted into a large grin and he dropped the hat, grabbing something from inside. A piece of mistletoe. He held it over our heads and I laughed at him and how ridiculous he was. He grinned sinfully, then tossed the mistletoe behind him, grabbing my face with both hands and brought my lips crushing down on his in an urgent kiss. I opened my mouth in a gasp and he made the most of this, deepening the kiss. He kept one hand on my face, the other slid down my body, pulling me close so I my entire body was pressed up the length of his.  
I finally pulled back for air. “Sure you don’t want to do that again, doll?” He grinned.  
“Certain.” I said firmly, but the kiss seemed to have swept most of my worries awayI smiled at his grin. “Can we go back to Christmas spirit again, please?” I begged, picking up the Santa hat and handing it back to him. “It seems safer.”  
He looked at the hat and then back to me, “How about just normal, kitten? I think I’ve had enough of Santa.” He growled, pushing my hand down.  
I smiled. “Deal.” I said, dropping the hat and pulling him back into a kiss.


	24. Day 24 - Joker x Reader - A Christmas Carol Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I’m going to say is MERRY CHRISTMAS (for those that celebrate it) and THANK YOU VERY MUCH! to all those people that have been reading this work.
> 
> I honestly can’t believe I did it haha
> 
> ENJOY!

The shadowy figure moved silently forward, passing directly through the wooden desk in front of it without any change and stopping a few feet from the Joker.  
The illusion must have been masked in complete black because he seemed to merge with the shadows, and the closer he got to the Joker, the more an odd sense of dread with the clown.  
“Are you supposed to be the next one?” J asked the apparition who loomed in front of him. The figure said nothing. “Let me guess…?” Drawled J, “The Ghost of my future?” It still didn’t answer, but simply raised an arm, pointing hand towards the Joker and past him. The faint light in the room allowed the Joker to make out that the hand was gloved, but that was it.  
J eyed the finger sceptically with a raised eyebrow, following where it pointed to the office door behind him. “Are we ‘off’ again…?” The Joker asked – who really at this point was feeling more tired than he had felt in a very long time.  
There seemed to be a slight movement of the head in the darkness and J presumed this was a nod.  
Although he was pretty much getting use to his constant hallucinations at this point, this illusion seemed to strike J more for some reason. He was rarely afraid, but this thing seemed to radiate horror - like there was something behind the shroud of shadows that was truly horrifying.  
“Ok, ‘spirit’” J muttered, “though you don’t look as friendly as my other hallucinations, I presume you are here for a similar purpose… to show me… something?” He asked, spinning his wrist, annoyance in his voice. No matter how relaxed he sounded though, he could almost feel himself cowering - something about this hallucination was really affecting him – maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the lack of sleep?  
The shadow still didn’t speak, continuing to point past him. J rolled his neck in frustration, when he faced the phantom again he was grinning. “Well, lead on then…”  
The figure moved towards him at that, and J recognised the creature also as soon as he caught the light almost immediately. He knew those pointy ears, sweeping cape and plated armour anywhere. The batman was his illusion.   
J automatically stepped aside to let him pass – not sure if the hallucination would be able to pass through him or not. No of course it would! That was stupid to think otherwise – it was just a figment of a very detailed imagination - that was all.   
Joker followed in intrigue as the ghost led the way, when they passed through the office doorway they did not end up in the hallway – and J was starting to seriously question if he still had one – but instead, Gotham city seemed to spring up around them like daisies.  
The streets were empty like they would be at this time of night, but the bat - his gloved hand still outstretched - continue to walk the direction he pointed, crossing a silent road and stopping at the mouth of an alleyway, still pointing down into it. J looked down the line of the illusions finger, seeing a small group of bedraggled criminals hunched together in the darkness.  
Even from this distance he seemed to be able to hear them as clear as if he was stood right next to them.  
“-n’t know how – just heard it from Snapper.” Muttered one, rubbing his dirty hands together against the bitter cold whistling through the alley.  
“When did it happen?” Inquired another  
“Snap’ said las’ night.”  
“’ow did it ‘appen?” asked yet another man, pushing forward into their huddle more, placing a cigarette to his lips. “I thought he’d neva die.”   
“Dunno.” Muttered the first guy again.  
“Wats gonna ‘appen to all his power?” asked the one with the cigarette who was now digging into the pocket of the guy next to him, pulling out a lighter.  
“Dunno.” Said the guy again, “Didn’t ‘av anyone to han’ it over to, did he? Certainly wan’t me!” He barked out a laugh and the other chuckled along with him.   
When they calmed down, the fourth man of their party who previously had remained silence, now finally spoke up. “They’ll be a war now, lads. Mark my words. Ain’t gonna be a safe place in the city when there’s that much power at stake.”  
There was a pause of silence at this thought. The guy with the cigarette took a long pull and puffed it out. He looked thoughtful. “Don’t reckon they’ll invite me to the funeral do ya?” He joked and they all laughed with him heartily again.  
“I could use a free meal!” Chimed in another and soon the lads were all bent over chuckling away like this man’s death meant nothing for them anymore than for a bit of gossip.  
Joker glanced to the bat whose exposed mouth and shadowy eyes showed no emotion, instead he moved on and J followed until Batsy paused further down the street where two men convened together in thick expensive coats and scarfs on the snowy pavement by a shuttered shop.  
J knew these men – he used to be good mates with them when he worked for Marlo, and he now always cut them into deals where he could - though he hadn’t personally spoken for a very long time.  
“How are you, Nicky?” Asked one, grabbing ‘Nicky’s hands strongly like a close mate, placing his other hand other the top.  
“Bloody freezing, Den. Bloody freezing.” Nicky grinned back, placing his free hand on top of the other man’s. The men both chortled together, though they both looked much older and worn than J remembered them  
“Did ya see that old C’s bit it?” asked Den.  
“So I hear. Hell’s gonna break loose.” Muttered Nicky. There was a slight pause as each man thought about this, then, “Did Georgie like her Christmas present? Took me ages to get that shipped over!”  
“Oh, aye, she did.” Said Den with a smile. “And she wants to give you a kiss for it – careful man I’ll get jealous.” He teased, and they both laughed again, Nick placing his hand on Den’s back, steering him down the street away from J and the illusion, chatting companionably.  
The Joker was confused by this. What was Batsy playing at? Why did he need to see that? Getting one back for the amount of times he had toyed with him, maybe? Or was this supposed to have some profound meaning behind it that J wasn’t getting?  
When he looked up at the Bat, the eyes were focused on him now and it made J rather unsettled, and he suddenly felt the bitter cold around him.  
They left that part of town, heading out towards the waterside where J knew there were more slum-like, poorer areas, but where he personally never went.  
The scenes were disgusting: overflowing industrial bins, graffitied walls and broken, smashed windows, nests of mouldy newspapers - that were clearly people’s beds - walls lined with empty alcohol bottles, some whole, but most smashed and would make a quick and easy weapon for anyone around here.  
The bat led him through a door that hung diagonally on its hinges and creaked when the wind battered against it. The room beyond was - if anything - colder than it was outside. It was empty except for a counter that sat on the opposite side of the room where a man stood with a worn, patchy coat and a filthy woollen hat pulled tightly over his head and ears.  
Just as J and the ghost entered in, two women and a man came in behind them. “Hey Joe!” One of the women called happily despite her unfortunate circumstances that was apparent from simply looking at her - as well as the other two - there wasn’t a single clean piece of skin on them, their clothes looked to be sewn together rags and they had the twitchy, chaotic look of someone who liked the illegal stuff a bit too much.  
The first women slapped a heavy canvas bag down on the counter in front of ‘Joe’ who looked taken aback by the heaviness of it. “Had a good hall, kids?” He asked in surprise.  
“Aye, that we ‘av - we hit up ‘is death bed didn’t we, lads!” Grinned the women, turning back to the two that hovered behind.  
Joe raised an eyebrow at them, impressed, and nodded his head, “Let’s have a little look then.”  
“Abs – you first.” The first woman beckoned to the younger girl behind her who was no less grimy - though maybe not so twitchy in the eye.  
‘Abs’ heaved her own bag onto the desk. It looked slightly smaller than the other woman’s and she emptied the contents onto the counter. A brooch, a pair of cufflinks and an inexpensive knife clattered onto the wood.  
Joe appraised the items carefully, eventually handing over what he would pay for her.  
“Next?” Joe called with a friendly smile. The woman beckoned up the man. He emptied the contents of his bag which consisted of a few towels, some smart looking shoes and a few pieces of silver. Again, Joe determined the value and handed over the coins the man was entitled to.  
“Now open mine, Joe.” Pressed the leading woman excitedly.  
“Alright Maz, give me a chance.” Joe said with a chuckle, now turning his attention on the much larger bag that the woman had swung onto the counter. He untied a few knots that were holding it together and then reached a hand in, unrolling a large, thick piece of expensive material.  
“What on earth is this?” He asked in surprise, “Bed curtains?!”  
“Uh huh.” Nodded Maz proudly, “Bed curtains.” She confirmed.  
“You mean, you went in and just took them from the room whilst he lay in his death bed?”  
“Yes, I do.” She said. “And why shouldn’t I?”  
“You, my dear, were born to make your fortune.” Muttered Joe.  
“Be careful with that pen – don’t get ink on the clothes!” Cried Maz.  
“His clothes?” Asked Joe.  
“Who elses?” Maz cried, “There won’t be a stain or thread out of place on those shirts I tell you – they’re his best. They’d just have been wasted if it hadn’t been for me.” She declared.  
“What would you call ‘wasting it’?” teased Joe, admiring the cloth.  
“Well, they would have gone and dressed the man and buried the clothes 6 foot under the Earth with him!” She declared in outrage. “Somebody was stupid enough to do it, as well, but I just took it off again! If a flannel shirt ain’t good enough for that, it ain’t good enough for anything!” She declared. “He can’t look any uglier anyway.” Maz added.  
The Joker listened to this in amazement. He knew these things existed, but he’d never sought them out – what would he want with beggar’s scarps that were exchanged for a measly few dollars or bites of food? But these people were the lowest of the low in J’s opinion.  
The women let out a mad bark of laughter at the large pile of money pushed her way by Joe. “This is the end of it!” She declared to the room around her as she snatched up the cash. “He frightened everyone away when he was alive, all to profit us now he’s dead!” She cackled, lifting the cash high in triumphant.   
The Joker turned away. “Ok, Batsy, I get the picture, can you get that hag out of my sight…” He snarled.   
Suddenly the run-down old room and the people within it were gone, and now J was in another room, knelt right next to the side of a bed. The rest of the room was pitch-black, so he could hardly see anything else around him, but some odd light seemed to filter down onto the bed before him so he saw, upon the naked mattress, a body lain beneath a thin white sheet.   
No one else was in the room, mourning the man and J could make out no signs that anyone had been. He watched the shape in silence. He had never been one to fear death – that didn’t work in his line of business and often he accepted it with open arms, only to be sharply pulled away from it - but now, in this room with the silent body before him - the features and detail of the man hidden from his sight - it was actually affecting him, and in a far more striking way. He almost longed to withdraw the sheet that covered the body’s face, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  
The Joker abruptly stood up. His head hammering. “I’m going.” He growled, not looking at the phantom nearby that had watched him this whole time.  
The ghost said nothing to dissuade him, but when J looked at him, he was silently pointing a finger at the bed.  
“I know what you want.” Snarled the Joker, “But I am not doing it...” He growled. Then his face fell, and he looked tired and vulnerable. “I can’t do it.” He muttered to himself.  
Again, all the Bat seemed to do was stare at him.  
“Does anyone truly feel any tenderness towards a death?” J asked eventually, his voice sounding tired - more to himself as a comfort, than anything else.  
The Bat then reached for his cloak, spread it out wide so it seemed to encompass the whole room, and then, when he pulled it back into himself, the room had changed - J now finding himself back in a familiar flat. Frost’s flat.  
Frost’s sister, Lucy, walked into the room, her eyes red and puffy and she sniffed slightly and she threw herself down on the sofa, rubbing at her face in exhaustion.   
“Mummy…?” Came a quiet sleepy voice from behind J, and the girl J recognised as Lucy’s daughter, Lottie, appeared in the hall behind him. She looked a good few years older than she had done the last time he’d seen her.  
“What is it, hun?” Asked Lucy, glancing over the back of the sofa at her daughter, “you’re supposed to be in bed.”  
“Nightmare.” The girl mumbled through a yawn and waddled over in her yellow pyjamas to her mum.  
Lucy gave her a small smile, “Come here then.” And pulled her up on the sofa next to her, the girl immediately cuddling into her side.  
They were silent and peaceful for a few moments like that, then Lottie spoke up. “Were you crying mummy?”  
“Why would you say that?” Her mum asked kindly  
“Because I heard you, and,” The girl lifted her face to look at her mother, “your eyes are all puffy.”  
Lucy smirked at the compliment. “Ok, maybe I was. But mummy gets a bit sad at the moment.”  
“Is it because of Tim?” Asked the girl, intrigued.  
“Yes, it’s because of Tim.” Murmured Lucy, kissing the girls head as she snuggled back into the crook of her mum’s arm. “But don’t tell your Uncle Frosty.” She murmured into the girl’s hair.  
Lottie shot back up. “Why not?” She whispered excitedly.  
“Because I don’t want to make him sad too – and mummy being sad makes him sad.” Lucy explained carefully. “So, can you promise not to tell him?”  
“Yes.” Lottie nodded importantly.  
“Thank you.” Lucy smiled gently.  
They cuddled against each other for a while until Lottie fell asleep in Lucy’s arms and, eventually, the door to the flat opened and Frost stepped in looking tired and much older.  
“Hi Johnny.” Lucy whispered. Frost glanced over, confused at her quiet voice, but Lucy just gestured to Lottie fast asleep in her arms. Frost nodded, took off his coat and made his way to the sofa, lifting Lottie into his arms and carrying her down the hallway to her bed.  
He returned a few moments later with a tired smile to Lucy. “You alright?” He asked, collapsing into the armchair to her right.  
“Yeah, I’m coping - what about you?”  
“I went to check out how it was all going,” He said, “they said they’d be done before Sunday.”  
Lucy nodded at this.  
Frost continued. “You should have seen it Lu, how green it is…” He murmured, lost in thought, “and you’d be able to visit often. I promised him I would walk there every week…”  
Suddenly Frost seemed to break under everything and he left the room. J had never seen his head henchman liked this. Never seen him with any emotion, let alone all of this. The Joker followed him into the hallway where he disappeared into his room, closing the door lightly behind him. J found him crouched next to Tim’s old wheelchair where he then put his hands on either of the arm rests like he was still looking at the young boy sat before him. He gave a weak, small smile and then stood up and walked out, looking much better for having done it.  
“Sorry.” He apologised to Lucy, who quickly wiped away a few tears before Frost could notice.  
“Don’t apologise.” Lucy said with a small smile.   
They fell into easy conversations about their days and how Lottie was, and Frost suddenly mentioned [Y/N]. Joker suddenly perked up with interest.   
“I bumped into her on the street. She grabbed me from behind – I didn’t even realise I had walked past her.” He explained. They had barely spoken before that really – Frost made it a rule not to talk to his Boss’s girls too much - in case the Joker took the wrong way - but [Y/N] had approached him in the street when she thought she had seen him look rather ‘down’ as she had put it.  
When Frost had explained the passing of little Tim, she had exclaimed how terribly sorry she was to hear of it, and how sorry she was for Lucy having lost her son so young. [Y/N] had then proceeded to exchange numbers with Frost and begged him to call her if she could help him in anyway as she wasn’t too bad off herself even now.  
“She sounds very nice.” Lucy murmured, smiling at the kind gesture.  
“She is.” Muttered Frost. “Shame that the Boss messed it up with her – I was kind of rooting for that one – she was by far the best for him.” He said in thought. Suddenly he smirked. “Tim thought so too.”  
“Did he meet her then?” Lucy asked, confused.  
“No.” Frost said with a small laugh. “He just thought she sounded nice.” The two adults just smiled sadly to themselves as they thought back to memories of the little boy that had brought them so much joy, and now so much sadness. 

The Joker turned back to the Bat beside him. “Ok, Batsy, our time must be up soon, so tell me…” He drawled, watching the man carefully. “Who was the man who was dead?”  
Suddenly the flat around them dissolved and he was stood exposed on a hill on the outskirts of Gotham. The wind whipped around his shoulders and he glanced around at what he now saw was a graveyard. The hallucination stood a bit further up the hill from him in the snow, pointing down to one grave in particular. The Joker slowly strode up the hill to it, his feet slipping in the slushy ice underfoot.  
The batman had always been a symbol of fear to the people of Gotham, but now there was something even more foreboding in his solemn figure.  
“Everything that you’ve shown me, Batsy…” Started the Joker carefully, as he advanced slowly up the hill. “Is that what is to be, or what may come?” He asked lowly, too quiet for the illusion to hear, had he been a normal person but, somehow, J knew that he could hear him, even though the Ghost made no sign of it and remained pointing his gloved finger downwards.  
“Tell me that, if something changes, these scenes change as well...” Growled the Joker - aggravated at the silence from the hallucination.  
Still the Bat did not move nor speak.  
None the less, the Joker advanced on towards him still, though his jaw was tense with his frustration at everything he had seen, and the answers he couldn’t have.  
Finally, J was close enough to read the engraving on the stone before the phantom. It was a neglected grave, strewn with moss, and no flowers or tributes lay upon the earth at it’s the feet. The headstone simply read ‘THE JOKER. THE ONCE CLOWN PRINCE OF CRIME’  
“This is me?”  
The finger moved from the stone to J and back again.  
“No.” Growled the Joker.  
He looked at the Bat figure that now somehow seemed even taller and imposing then before and almost leered over him.  
“I am not the man you have showed me!” growled the Joker. From what he had seen tonight he could tell something needed to change. “You wouldn’t torture me with this if there wasn’t something I could do about it!” He snarled.  
There seemed to be a twitch in the Bat’s mouth and his hand looked to be shaking. “You have to tell me what to do, Batsy.” He growled at the illusion. “The three of you have led me this far… now you need to tell me the rest…” He snarled, grabbing at the now trembling hand - in that moment not realising that he had somehow grabbed an hallucination. The Bat tried to pull back from him, but J held on tightly until a strong wrench from the illusion finally freed his hand and he seemed to grow even taller before J until he collapsed into himself into a pile of coats, leaving only J’s office chair in his place.  
J was back in his office, kneeling by his chair in exhaustion. Morning light streamed in through the curtains which had been thrown open, his desk sat next to him and - as he looked around - the rest of the room was the same as he remembered.  
He got to his feet and strode to the office door and threw it open, finding - not Gotham city, not the dining room - but his usual penthouse hallway outside. He ran around the penthouse manically, throwing open every door to see it exactly as it had been at the start of the evening.  
He stood in the middle of his penthouse, grinding his teeth and growling to himself. Marlo. That man. Even in death the old man liked to always prove J wrong. But there was a good reason for that – the old man was always right.  
The Joker suddenly walked quickly to his room, the curtains were still in place around the bed - not pulled down by that thieving hag - the room was bright with light from streaming through the curtains, and his own body did not lie under the sheets, instead, the covers were thrown back where he had got out of bed in the middle of the night to go to his office.  
It suddenly occurred to J that he had no idea what time or day it was. He looked at his phone which read 10am 25/12. Christmas Day. It had all happened in one night? He hadn’t hallucinated his way through several days?  
J looked down at himself, almost unable to believe he himself was real, and he suddenly remembered he was in the same clothes as last night. He threw on fresh clothes, making himself look smarter than he had in a while - a new energy in him he hadn’t had felt in a long time and he found his hand almost shaking as he tried to button his shirt.  
The next thing he knew he was down in the lobby of his building - not caring who saw him. He approached the desk and rang the bell on it. A man appeared behind it, and instantly stiffened at the sight of the Joker, pulling himself up straighter. “Y-yes, sir? Can I help you?”  
“I need you to buy every Christmas food item you would think of and send it here.” He said gruffly, handing over a piece of paper with an address. “Don’t say who it’s from - and don’t let them turn it down.” Before the young man could argue, the Joker had walked away. An order from the Joker was an order you followed out, despite what logic there seemed for it.  
J then strolled outside, his coat collar high and his head down as he walked through the snow flurry. He could have called a guy to pick him up and get him where he wanted, but he wanted to walk - he felt he needed to clear his head if possible.  
How he knew where [Y/N] lived he couldn’t be sure. He vaguely recognised her house from what little his illusion had shown him – and for some reason he trust them - and somehow his feet carried him there and he found himself stood outside the familiar house with the large Christmas tree in the main downstairs window.  
He stepped up to the door and rapped sharply on it.  
[Y/N] answered it and her eyes widened when she recognised him. “J?” She breathed in amazement. He nodded, grabbed her hips and pulled her up against him, kissing her with a burning urgency. She melted instantly into the memory of his lips and kiss him back almost as intensely. Finally, she pulled away and looked shock at what had just happened.  
“No.” She muttered stepping back and pulling the door in front of her, so it was a shield against the clown. “I can’t do this again J. No.”  
J took a deep breath, “I don’t know what I am doing, doll.” He admitted, and she was surprised how vulnerable he sounded. “I know that I messed you. I know I hurt you. And I can’t fix that so I’m not going to try.” He said. “I’m here to tell you I’m going back to having fun and causing trouble - and I want you there when I do.”  
She studied his face intently, looking for a sign that this was a trick just to get her back, but she couldn’t deny the honesty and almost tenderness in his eyes as he looked at her. She pulled the door open again. “Do you want to come for Christmas?”  
He gave her one of his old familiar wide grins and followed her into the house.  
\--

The next day, J waited in his office for Frost to arrive. He was at least 20 minutes late now.  
When he did finally show he reported to J as he always did first thing in the morning.  
“Where were you.” Growled J, not looking up from his papers.  
“Sorry I’m late, Boss, we got a bit too merry yesterday.”  
“I don’t care what you do in your free time.” J snarled, “But I expect you here when I need you.” He glared. “It is with a heavy heart, Frosty – “ He said, reaching into his jacket and Frost could picture the gun he was reaching for and had to resist the urge to close his eyes – he would meet death head on “- that I raise your salary.”  
Frost froze. “Excuse me, Boss?” Frost stuttered, as J drew out a cheque from his Jacket, placing it on the edge of the table closest to Frost.  
“I believe the word, Frosty, is ‘thank you’.”  
“And Merry Christmas.” Added a voice from behind Frost who turned in surprise to [Y/N] walking into the office in a one of J’s shirts with a mug of coffee. “J wants to help with your family situation – though he loathes to say it.” [Y/N] explained and J shot her a glare, though she just ignored him. “J would like to pay for physio for your sister’s son – Jimmy, right? And the kids are always welcome here any time, isn’t that right J?” She elbowed him, and Frost looked to him with his mouth slightly open.  
J rolled his eyes, “Sure… but their mother better be here too…” He drawled unimpressed, though he shot a wink at [Y/N] who grinned at him.   
“Oh, and, Frosty?” Called J as the henchman went to leave, still looking quite dazed by it all. “Ring up those men with those blueprints – tell ‘em I’ll fund it and anything else they feel they want to try – I‘m feeling generous.” Frost nodded and went to leave again.  
“But none at Christmas!” Called [Y/N] after him. Frost paused and glanced at J for confirmation of this and J looked up at her with an adorning look in his face.   
“Yeah, none at Christmas.” He agreed and [Y/N] smiled back at him, leaning down to kiss him. Frost left them alone and went to fulfil his orders with the weight of the world off his shoulders.


End file.
